Oedipus Rex
by voltaire22
Summary: Post FE7/pre FE6. Tactician joins a revolution to overthrow the King and install Zephiel in his place.
1. A Call to Arms

Alice grumbled.

Kayleth sighed. "What now?"

It had been almost nine and a half years since Kayleth had become Alice's sole guardian, nine years since the conclusion of the war against Nergal and the Black Fang.

He also took care of two daughters, and yet her brother was still a little off when it came to handling hair.

Kayleth thought his sister was being nitpicky.

"It's fine, I'll do it myself." Alice undid the hair Kayleth had worked on for a good five minutes.

With dexterous fingers, long and slender, perfect for the piano, Alice knotted a braid with half her hair, tied it around a bun with a blue ribbon, and inserted jeweled hairpins to stabilize it. She left her front half as it is, the hair to the side coming down to her jaw and her front hair lightly covering her forehead. Alice had found that it was usually better to let her opponents know she was a woman than to put on a helmet which provided less protection than the moment of hesitation her looks granted her.

When her fingers were tightened around her lance and the reins of Fenrir, her wyvern, enemies usually hesitated for a moment when they set eyes upon her features. That hesitation cost them their lives.

Alice had been to battles for two years now, and learned to take advantage of any opening she could find. It was all the better that her opponents were distracted by her obviously feminine face and her elegant dress-armor. After begging, bribing, cajoling, cursing, and exhorting her to agree to quit fighting for months, Kayleth succumbed to the might of the hold she knew she had over him. Alice would never admit how close she came to acceding to his wish when he broke down on the ground begging and crying.

The one thing she allowed him to get away with was the armor. The raw material needed for orihalcon alone is expensive enough as it is, but forging it into armor, a process that required magic, was even more expensive and time consuming. It was just the siblings' luck that Kayleth was a paranoid hoarder obsessed with the occult, investing opportunities, and everything to do with the military… and that they knew two Mage Generals of Etruria, one of them the apprentice of Archsage Athos, praised be his name.

The light, but impossibly sturdy silver-white armor fit her like a second skin. Under it, she wore a green dress, partly because of Kayleth's discovery that Alice was not a little girl anymore, and partly because her wyvern was green, but mainly to throw off her opponents, who were most often male.

Kayleth had said that it was a survival mechanism. Societies that did not appreciate the value of women in reproductive age were unlikely to survive for long, so only those that did continued on today. Those societies passed on their trait, to appreciate the womb as the most important communal resource, to the next generation and so forth. It took a psychopathic man to not hesitate even a little in killing women of childbearing age, and Kayleth admitted that it had probably been a factor in his army taking few casualties in its war against the Black Fang; almost one third of the army was female. It didn't help later when they fought morphs, of course.

Alice thought wryly that he would never voice this theory to Lyn, since he didn't want his bed cold and his stomach empty, who was a fervent believer in gender equality. Her brother was of the view that men and women were specialized for different aspects, making up for each other's deficiencies when they bonded with a member of the opposite sex, and that she should take advantage of any opening that might help her survive.

She thought Sir Heath had a lot to do with that, survival. After the war, Heath had nowhere to go. Following Vaida was likely to result in his death, for he knew he was expendable if it served the King to teach her a lesson. He could not remain in Lycia or Etruria, for he had sworn himself to no other nation and had no plans to do so whatever his status might be.

So he joined Kayleth, and served as his enforcer and second-in-command. While Kayleth raised her to be a Duchess, Heath trained her as a Wyvern Knight. Her brother tolerated it because he thought she should know how to defend herself. Kayleth also imagined that Heath's sense of duty and honor would rub off on her. He had never imagined that she would willingly take to the field with him.

Kayleth was furious, boiling over with rage when he found, two years ago, that Alice tailed him to join him on one of the raids across the border that he conducted with his motley band of mercenaries. He was also in the middle of a battle, and couldn't do much about it. Kayleth eventually gave in to her argument that she was of marriageable age and that it was her right to make her own choices. If there was anything Kayleth believed in, it was the sanctity of choice; that was why he paid keen attention to illicit slaving operations, for he hated slavers with as much passion as he hated his parents and the King.

"They're here, boss." Ilya said. Ilya was a Falcoknight, one of the two Kayleth had hired on an 'extended assignment,' courtesy of Fiora's authority.

Alice noted her brother scrutinizing the caravan, and raising his baton. She put her helm on.

A minute passed by the reckoning of her Etrurian-made timepiece… two minutes… and Kayleth lowered his baton.

The Oaken Ridge shook as pre-positioned boulders were rolled off the precipice. The caravan's guards were massacred in a hail of stone and a cacophony of crashing sounds and screaming men.

They had killed nearly thirty people in the blink of an eye

The wind billowed around Alice as Fenrir jumped and soared down the cliff. She gripped a javelin tightly and set her sights on one of the remaining soldiers. Alice threw, but she realized she was too hasty and the javelin missed. She simmered in envy when she saw that Sir Heath did not miss; he even had time for a second volley.

"S_howoff._" Alice grumbled to herself.

There were only eight who had survived the rocks, and the last two archers had no chance as arrows and fireballs claimed their lives.

The cavalry element of Kayleth's mercenaries burst out of hiding from one of the seams that marred the ridge, cutting off the caravan's retreat.

The fliers dumped their payload of boiling water, mixed with salt, over the six soldiers who remained. Alice turned her gaze away as they writhed on the ground, screaming in agony. They dropped their passengers in front of the soldiers, and she was relieved when the screaming stopped, the soldiers having been granted mercy. Alice took off the helm, knowing that she wouldn't need it.

She found a soldier still alive, groaning. His legs had been crushed by one of the boulders. She walked over to his side.

The soldier looked up, and pain was briefly forgotten as he stared in at a girl. The girl couldn't be more than sixteen years old, and yet had an exquisitely noble face, regal even, fitting for one of the great Ladies of Court. Her golden hair shined in the glow of the setting sun, and her green eyes sparkled in somber determination and a trace of pity. She stood at an angle, facing him only with her face and her sword.

He thought that was rather out of character with her green dress, the silver armor that encased it, and the gleaming jewel pommeled silver broadsword in her right hand, its tip poised at his throat. Ancient runes were etched into the blade, and the pommel resembled a kraken. He thought the pommel might actually be a ruby, which meant that it was an heirloom of a noble House.

The girl opened her mouth, and a comfortingly lyrical voice, soft-spoken, soothed his nerves. "Your legs are broken, soldier, and most likely beyond the miracle of the elixir and healing magic alike. You will never walk the earth as a man again. By the ancient laws of man, written before the Scouring, and my duty as peer of the realm, I cannot allow you to live. Will you take a moment to say your last words on this mortal plane?"

The pain returned to the soldier, and he gritted his teeth to prevent himself from screaming. He gasped. He definitely had something to say.

"I'm in no particular hurry, soldier, but I would like to spare you from your pain as soon as I can." The girl's voice urged, as gentle as before but with a certain degree of remorse. Despite the pain, the soldier chuckled, and recovered his voice.

"I… my family is in Oakenshield, serving the Viscount as servants in the keep…. Please, tell Lena, and my son, to move on. Tell my father, gaahh! Ha… whew… he's the blacksmith, that I died doing my duty."

The girl gave him a bittersweet smile. "Though I do not agree that this is your duty, I will see to it that they get word as soon as we can arrange it. Viscount Oakenshield is a good man, yes, and as good a liege as one can hope to have. However, he has forgotten his duty to the rest of the kingdom, his duty to Bern. I am sorry that you will not live to see your homeland freed."

"Pfeh. You're one of them, are you?"

"Yes. We believe it is time to depose the Mad King, rightful heir of Hartmut or not. He is a harmful presence to the well-being of Bern. Prince Zephiel will be a more fitting ruler." The soldier was no idiot, and he could detect fierce pride in the girl's voice.

"Then you're a fool. Waging civil war when you could wait for the King to die, especially when he does not have many years left, is madness!"

"You may be right. But we have a plan to minimize casualties. Two thousand men at the most, and ten years' worth of reconstruction, but twenty years of progress. Better that than more people dying of starvation by the King's ridiculous taxes and twenty years of stagnation and decline."

"…You're mad if you think war will go according to plans." He coughed up blood, and the blood was turning black. "Plans don't survive first contact with the enemy."

A Wyvern Knight with white and green hair arrived by the girl's side. "Lady Alice, your brother tells you to get it over with."

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Sir Heath." Alice turned her attention back on the soldier. "Your family will get word of you, you have my word, Knight. I am Lady Alice, of the Great House of Winterfell, future Duchess of Hamor. I apologize for the failure of my class to dispose of the Mad King sooner. Close your eyes, and say your last prayer to our God on this mortal plane. May the Saint grant you entrance to the fields of Elysium."

The soldier did as he was told. The Mourning Glory plunged down, cutting its way through the skull and lodging itself in the brains.

"Hmph… the inner Duchies are getting more serious about protecting their trade. That was almost a fifth of a legion they sent with this caravan, and to protect only five merchants. We must be hurting them more than we thought." Kayleth observed, his armored boot coming down heavily on the neck of another survivor.

"Is it over?" Alice asked.

"Yes, my Lady." Heath said.

"Come on, time to meet the merchants." Kayleth said.

They all dismounted and walked over to the wagons where they found five merchants cowering and wetting their pants.

Kayleth approached them, and said, "Surrender?"

It was not much of a question. The merchants nodded frantically.

"Good. Tell me what you have in the wagons."

"We h-have t-tea, spices from Nabata, and t-tobacco, Lord."

"Tobacco?" Kayleth frowned. "That foul-smelling garbage from Ashan?"

"It's still a l-luxury good, Lord. A thousand gold per box!"

"Uh… very well. You may detach a horse each from your respective wagons. The closest town, as I'm sure you know, is two days to the east. Try not to get killed by bandits."

"Thank y-you for your m-mercy, Lord." The merchants bowed, relieved and forgetting for the moment that they might be bankrupt.

"Ah, and be certain not to tell anyone about our specific location, or our faces, hmm? I have eyes and ears deep in the kingdom… and it'll be a terrible bore for me to have to hunt you vermin down. If word gets out in the guild or in the courts… well, you might have heard about what happened to a certain Jasanov cartel."

The merchants shivered. They had heard about the cartel, of course… one day, the entire family disappeared, one of the preeminent merchants of Bern, five years ago. They heard it was a regular caravan run gone wrong, and that the same bandits had infiltrated the capital itself to enslave the rest of the family. They nodded as though their lives depended on it and made various oaths of secrecy.

In reality, Kayleth had bribed the family to take their business to Lycia, but he'd never tell anyone that. They now operated under a different name and were thriving in Ostia, mainly dealing in Nabatan spice using Kayleth's contact, Hawkeye. In return, Kayleth had a name with which to invoke terror in the other merchant caravans he raided, and none could mistake his group for ordinary bandits, for they had Pegasii and wyverns. It was possible for a renegade Wyvern Knight to become a bandit, but it was unheard of for Pegasus Knights to go into banditry.

Seventh Heaven was an enormous establishment, taking up four blocks of Bulgar. Kayleth had leveled all the pre-existing buildings to create enough space for his plans. Hector had rewarded him for his services during the war against Nergal most generously.

It was, in theory, an inn. It was, practically, a fortress. High walls enclosed the establishment, blocking off all but the main entrance, the only entrance. Four towers guarded the corners of the complex.

The center of the complex was the inn, the main business of Seventh Heaven. It was built in the traditional Sacaen manner, reflecting on the ages before the Sacaens became nomads. A hint of more 'civilized' architectural styles were put in the more prominent pillars and the dungeons. Kayleth kept prisoners there.

To the east of the main building were the two wells and the warehouse. Kayleth kept the wares he stole from merchant caravans there.

To the west were the armory and the barracks for the mercenaries. The barracks also served as a safehouse for Kayleth's allies.

To the south, near the main entrance, were the stables and the aviary.

To the north were servants' quarters and the drilling yard.

"Okaerinasai, daddy!"

With the wagons, the journey to headquarters was painfully slow. Still, they got back in three days with more tea, spice, and tobacco than they knew what to do with. No doubt their merchant contacts would be pleased.

It was late, and Seventh Heaven was gradually evicting its usual customers. Kayleth didn't care to have them pass out in the establishment.

"Tadaima! Hello, sweetheart. Shouldn't you be asleep?" Kayleth kissed his eldest daughter on the cheek.

"Uh… maybe?" Madelyn said, giggling. She knew her father wouldn't enforce bedtime. Tell her mother, perhaps, but never enforce it.

"Maddie!" Alice hugged her enthusiastically, lifting her off the ground.

"We're closing for the night, dismissed, everyone. Return to your quarters. Well, I suppose I'll keep the kitchen open in case any of you are hungry. First watch will be Father Hale and Chen. Unless you have some pressing concern, Father?" Kayleth said.

"None, Baron." Hale replied.

Kayleth, Alice, and Madelyn entered the Seventh Heaven. The three dutifully went to the kitchens, first.

The tactician was startled out of his wits as he found himself sprawled on the ground upon entering the kitchens. Lyn sat on top of him, a predatory smile marking her face.

"You're late. The tribe's already moved, we'll have to leave tomorrow if we want to see Pearl." She growled. When Alice had first started to accompany Kayleth on the raids, Lyn had insisted on accompanying them. She stopped only five months ago, when Alice scored a hit on Heath for the first time. Admittedly, Sir Heath seemed a little distracted that day, but Alice would take whatever reprieve she could get. She felt guilty taking her time away from the children.

Kayleth sighed, and took her proffered hand to kiss it tenderly. "I'm sorry."

"No casualties?"

"Come, Lyn, ever since that incident, I vowed that such a thing would not happen again."

"True. But you're an arrogant fool if you think your vow stops such a thing from happening again." Lyn began clicking with her tongue.

"I think it's one of my more attractive features."

"That's what you think." Alice chuckled, giving Lyn a hand in getting up.

Madelyn tried to do the same for Kayleth, but she was eight, and Kayleth was a lot heavier than Lyn was. Still, he accepted the hand and pushed himself up.

"So, what did you haul in this time?" Lyn said.

Kayleth shrugged. "Five wagons, full of stuff the merchants would be happy about. Did I mention how lovely you are in that kimono?"

"Multiple times. Well, go clean up, you two. You're going to bed, Madelyn." Lyn said, guiding the child to her room, upstairs from the kitchen.

"Oyasuminasai!" Madelyn said.

"Hmph… I'll go tell her a story. Go ahead and clean up, Alice. I'll help you close up in a few minutes, Lyn, after you get the cooks to feed our people." Kayleth said, following Madelyn.

"Don't take too long. I believe it was you who said something about a study that shows children grow when they sleep at night?" Lyn said.

"Er… did I mention that? Alright, alright, I won't keep her up too long!" Kayleth yelled as Lyn pinched him.

Sufficiently placated, Lyn walked back down the stairs. Alice followed her.

"Would you like anything while you bathe, Alice?"

Alice shrugged. "Tea, I guess. We have so much, from the raid I mean, I think we could afford to take a box. Thanks, Lyn."

"No problem, dear. Nina! Is the bath ready?!" Lyn shouted.

A Bernese woman, barely sixteen years old, appeared. She curtsied to Lyn and Alice. "Yes, mistress! I've been keeping it ready for the last five hours! Does ojou-sama need a massage? Warm wine, perhaps? Someone to read her a book? Music? Other… forms of entertainment?"

One of Alice's eyebrows started twitching, and infected the other in moments. Kayleth had admonished Alice on many occasions, when she was younger, for expecting to exploit slave labor out of the lower classes, but he ruled Seventh Heaven with an iron fist. His obsessive compulsiveness had carried over into his management of the business. None of the employees dared to do any less than what Kayleth and Lyn ordered.

Indeed, Alice had seen one of the contracts before, and one of the agreed upon punishments for 'gross negligence' was a lost finger and 'inappropriateness' was punishable by flogging… the number, the weapon used, and the person to carry out this sentence were unspecified. Clauses such as these were dotted all over the contract, giving her brother the legal right to do as he liked.

When Alice had asked Kayleth about that, he merely laughed and said it was 'negative reinforcement'. He reminded her that their relatively higher wages, and the sizeable tip employees could expect to receive from Seventh Heaven's wealthy patrons, served as 'positive reinforcement'. Kayleth claimed that he never had to enforce the 'finger thing', but Alice knew he had caught a couple of employees stealing in Seventh Heaven's first year. She knew for a fact that they were tied up, stuffed on the back of Kayleth's wyvern, and did not return with Kayleth after he went for a 'ride'.

Employees usually catch on to their employers' eccentricities quickly. Kayleth's employees dreaded nothing more than their master in a foul mood. The rest of Seventh Heaven's employees served the family and Kayleth's mercenaries with utmost diligence. As the establishment gained more fame and deep-pocketed customers, Kayleth rewarded their diligent and faithful service; there was, for instance, maternity leave, something unheard of anywhere but the upper echelons of Ilia's Pegasus Knights.

He also rented out rooms in Bulgar at a reduced rate for his employees, supported marriage ceremony costs, and taught, or had one of his mercenaries teach, them how to read. Some of their employees' children pursued martial interests, and Kayleth funded such interests on the conditions that they serve him after being trained. The second generation of enforcers, in fact, consisted only of such children who had undergone training with his mercenaries. Given a few more years, they would join him on the field of battle where they longed to prove themselves to their master.

Kayleth bound his employees to him with mutual self-interest.

Indeed, as long as they were diligent, respectful, subservient, and tight-lipped, Seventh Heaven was an excellent workplace, all the more so as the people who worked there didn't really have specialties. Kayleth rewarded their loyalty by hiring their sons and daughters, drawing them closer to him. His downfall equated to their downfall, and the employees understood that with an animal instinct. They would never betray his kindness and trust, not only because of the punishments but also because it was in their best interest to see to it that they did not. For all intents and purposes, Kayleth might as well have been God.

It helped that more than half of Kayleth's employees were Sacaen, too. They were naturally tight-lipped and honest. The head chef was a Sacaen, as was the overseer of Kayleth's various properties in Bulgar. Even if they were not Sacaen, Bulgar was still part of Sacae, and the honesty rooted in Sacaen culture influenced the non-Sacaens who lived in Bulgar, too. Kayleth thought the Sacaens' honesty was cute, albeit ridiculous and hopelessly naïve.

And since Kayleth and Lyn treated Alice like a princess, despite their half-hearted assertions to the contrary, the staff of Seventh Heaven insisted on treating her like a demigoddess. It was a profound difference from the equality with which everyone was treated on the plains, in her adoptive tribe the Borjigin. When she protested their disturbing devotion and subservience, they begged her not to say that, especially not in front of their master.

Alice shuddered as she remembered that one day, two years ago, when she returned exhausted from a troublesome raid against a greedy Bernese border Baron…. Leysella, one of the maids, was so distressed at, well, her distress, that she offered to 'pleasure' her, or have a man come to pleasure her. Sacae being Sacae, pre-marital sex was not a taboo in Bulgar. Alice, on the other hand, was born a sister of a future Bernese Duchess. When he rescued her, Kayleth did his best to ensure Alice die a virgin and she had a rather sheltered life. The maid gave graphic and vivid details of what 'pleasure' would involve. Alice almost died of embarrassment.

But she couldn't help asking questions.

When he heard about the incident from Lyn, Kayleth promptly passed out. Upon waking up, he had a lively discussion with his magic-using mercenaries about the possibility of inducing selective memory loss, for himself as well as for Alice. When he got tired of hearing the obvious answer, Kayleth set out to convince her that 'pleasure' when unmarried equaled sin and horrific tortures in hell, describing it in such detail that it made the maid's description of sex docile in comparison.

For some reason, Alice then realized that the various occasions in which she walked in on Kayleth and Lyn in bed, which they had both explained was 'unarmed combat training' and asserted that it was completely off-limits to her, was in fact, dare she say it… 'pleasure'.

Alice had proceeded to bang her head against the wall in a last-ditch attempt to expunge those images. Lady Rylai had to use a healing staff on her. Kayleth gave the maid the ranting and screaming of a lifetime, but didn't follow up with any other punishments. After all, he explained, it showed him the level of her devotion to her employer, and he was being a little, not much but admittedly a little, unreasonable in expecting to keep her a virgin for the rest of her life.

Kayleth also made it quite clear that anyone who sullied her could expect a very short life-span, along with the rest of the offender's family.

"Are you alright, Alice?" Lyn said, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Eh? Uh… yeah." Alice blushed. "A massage would be nice, thank you."

"Are you blushing?" said Lyn, grinning broadly. "Would you like me to come with you? It's been weeks since we took a bath together. Maybe you've… grown again."

"Lyn!" Alice shouted.

The servant, Nina, scanned Alice with critical eyes. "I don't think ojou-sama grew any more since the last time, mistress. But she's only seventeen, there is still hope."

Lyn nodded with a grave expression on her face. "Now, if we can only find a nice and handsome young man. You haven't been seeing anyone behind my back have you? Your lips are still virgin lips?"

Alice thought she would die of mortification. Someone had to put her out of her misery.

"Still? That's not good, milady. Perhaps we should get someone to give her a practice session? I can arrange it at once, mistress." Nina said, as calm as a butcher would be discussing the day's cut of beef.

"… Send someone else for the massage, and stay away from the bath, Lyn."

"Papa!" Pearl said, waddling into Kayleth's arms. He picked her up. Kayleth adored the way her silver hair shone under the rising sun, and proceeded to kiss her all over. She giggled, and deep grey eyes stared back into Kayleth's.

"Thank goodness." Kaguya sighed. "She was going mad. I need a raise."

Kaguya was thirty years old, her own children having wandered off for mercenary jobs long ago, and had taken care of the children whenever both Kayleth and Lyn were out. In other words, she knew exactly when Kayleth would be most malleable to a raise.

Kayleth knew that Kaguya knew, but didn't particularly care. He tossed her the bag of gold. "Thanks for taking care of her, Kaguya. Will that be enough?"

Kaguya shook the pouch a little, and nodded. Kayleth thought he was corrupting too many of the Borjigin. "You're going out tomorrow morning, too, I presume?"

"Yes, but I'll be taking Pearl this time."

The moon shone over the Sacaen sky.

Shopkeepers hastily stowed away their wares, for Bulgar had its own perils in the night. A constant influx of travelers assured no shortage of criminals who preyed on those who did not take precautions.

Even Seventh Heaven was preparing to close for the night.

Kayleth sighed in relief as the last of the drunkards left. The more accurate term would be 'booted'.

"Papa!"

"Yes, Pearl?" Kayleth said, beaming at the darling of his eyes.

"There's someone who wants to see you."

"We're closed for tonight, dear. Tell Chen to throw him out."

"Uh… it's a woman, and they have wyverns!" Pearl said, clearly excited.

"I see. Hmm… go help mama and sister clean the bar, dear."

"Hai~!" Pearl bounced away towards the part of the inn that held the bar and the restaurant.

Kayleth went to the main entrance, where he could hear a great argument going on.

"-yes, yes, we've heard that one before." Chen snorted. "There are other inns in Bulgar. We're closing."

Kayleth saw three of his mercenary enforcers barring the gate against three wyvern riders. Chen was a fierce Nomad Trooper of the Kutolah, whom he hired based on Rath's suggestion. It was difficult enough getting Rath to say a word, so that had been enough for Kayleth. Voljin, another Nomad Trooper, was of the Djute, and was reputed to be the best tracker in all of Sacae. The Valkyrie was Lady Jill of House Valentine, and was training out of Bulgar thanks to the recommendations from two former Mage Generals and the current one.

Strangely enough, he thought he recognized the two who did not have hoods covering their head.

"I tell you, I have had just about enough of your blabbering, you savage!"

Even the scar was in the same place. The confidence bordering on arrogance in the voice was the same.

"Huh." Kayleth thought out loud.

As the wyvern rider turned to face Kayleth, he saw that it was indeed who he thought she was.

"Lady Wyvern General Vaida, welcome to the Seventh Heaven." Kayleth bowed.

"You, you own this establishment, and you don't even come out to meet the-"

"_Vaida's full of fire and brimstone, as usual. Never changes, huh?_" Kayleth thought, drowning out what was undoubtedly a tiring tirade.

"Hello, Lord Kayleth."

Kayleth's head swiveled to face the other wyvern rider. He recognized her by her red hair and her impressive height.

"Dame Wyvern Knight Athielle, welcome to Bulgar." Kayleth nodded. "So… do you mind telling me what's going on? I thought you people forgot about me. Although, if you're here to join me, I can certainly use another two fliers. The third one would need a background check."

The third wyvern rider took off his hood.

"Hello, Baron Kayleth." Prince Zephiel said.

Kayleth rubbed his eyes before staring at him again.

"I assure you he is no illusion." Athielle chuckled.

"Leave." Kayleth said.

"What?!" Vaida's outrage was quite obvious.

A wyvern and two Pegasii descended from above.

"Brother, I heard we have troublemakers." The wyvern rider said.

"It's nothing, Alice. Go to sleep."

"Ah, this is Lady Alice, is it?" Athielle bowed. "I am Athielle, milady. It's been a long time."

Alice's eyes widened in surprise. "Dame Athielle? But, aren't you-"

"I've taken leave of your father's service, milady. I am still pledged to your House, of course."

"Enough with the chatter!" Vaida screamed. "What do you mean by 'leave', Kayleth?"

"It is common knowledge that the Prince has reconciled with the King. Three major revolutionary groups, each worth Legions of men at fighting age, have been wiped out to a man when they reached this accord. The Prince is a traitor, and a tyrant just as malicious as his father is. Ah, it was good of you to come, Ilya, Alleria. Kill that man!"

"Wait!" A voice lashed out, and everyone froze.

Blood of royalty really was different, Kayleth thought… such command in one's voice was hard to pull off without extensive training. Zephiel had really changed from the scared fourteen year old boy who Kayleth and his army saved. Even Kayleth could not help but obey the order.

"I do admit that it was my fault that those groups were destroyed. However, I must also point out, that they were willing to make that sacrifice to ensure that I survived. General Vaida, the letters, please."

"Bows trained on the prince at all times. Lady Jill, your wind tome, please. Dame Ilya, bring me those letters, and don't get stabbed by her." Kayleth said.

As Ilya went to fetch the letters, more of Kayleth's mercenaries arrived. He gave out quick hand signals to surround the three wyvern riders. He saw that Vaida was on the verge of losing herself, but even she recognized the peril her prince was in. The Sacaens were too close to the prince, and were unlikely to miss.

Kayleth quickly rifled through the letters, decades of reading having lent him the eyes to read with haste. He saw that the three groups had indeed deliberately sacrificed themselves so that Zephiel may stay alive. Together, they brought down a Duke of the inner duchies in a suicide mission, knowing that they were doomed anyways. Kayleth recognized the handwriting of one man, Burmann, who was a friend at the Academy. He was an able man who personified the ideals of a new Bern… he would be missed.

"Huh… it seems that your story checks out, Prince Zephiel." Kayleth said, and bowed. "Your Highness, welcome to Seventh Heaven."

"That's the Prince?!" Alice said, pointing at him.

"Uh… yes. Who did you think I was talking to?"

"I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness. I am-"

"Alice, the Red Baron's only sibling. Pleased to meet you." Zephiel smiled a smile that would, under normal circumstances, make all maidens in a mile radius faint.

"Enough with the pleasantries. What do you want, Prince? Surely you did not come to Sacae just to greet me and make my sister blush?" Kayleth raised an eyebrow and tapped his feet impatiently.

"Join me."

"No."

"You swore that the Prince's cause is your cause, Kayleth!" Vaida shouted, brandishing her lance.

"I think not." Kayleth spat. "Not when that Prince has been shirking his duties for nigh eight years, foregoing countless opportunities to slip a dagger between the King's ribs and straight into the heart. I accuse him of being weak-willed. I accuse him of being retarded. Both of which are qualities that would get one executed in Hamor."

"Who says he's been shirking them?" Athielle asked.

"Why, the King's occupation of the throne does! The dissenters purged along the outer Duchies do!"

"I'll be the first to admit that I regret the matters you just mentioned, Baron. But have you considered that I could not do anything about it?" Zephiel said.

"So what? Has anything changed? Can you do something about it?" Kayleth sneered.

"Yes."

"Oh?"

"I've raised nearly twelve Legions' worth of fighting men to my cause, and most of the Wyvern Knights, too. The Dukes of the outer duchies had enough. The mountain clans of the north rise in my name. The Merchant Princes of the Western Isles pledged their support. I am finally in a position to challenge my father… and my father will launch a war next year against Sacae and Ilia."

Kayleth considered for a moment, then scoffed. "It's still twelve legions against more than thirty, Your Highness, and that's just the standing army. How do you propose to win against more than twice your numbers and more magi at that? How will you stand the might of Hamor, the inner Duchies, the royal guards, the Codiciers, and the Home Fleet? This changes nothing. Only the King's death will change things."

"Why, with the help of the Red Baron, of course. The one who defeated nearly two thousand assassins with not even a quarter of a legion of soldiers." Zephiel said.

"Those were special circumstances. My soldiers were great soldiers, and my enemies were rank amateurs. The King will die within the decade, anyways, and either you or Princess Guinevere will take the throne. Meanwhile, the Sacaens and the Ilians both have space to trade for time, harassing the supply lines and killing the scouts. They will not fall to Bern, especially when it's led by his Majesty, King Desmond. I now have family to take care of. I have no incentive to risk making orphans of my children and robbing my sister of her only brother."

"Brother, this is what you fought for all along!"

"Silence! There will be no discussion on this matter. Our harassment of inner Duchy merchant caravans costs us little while doing significant harm to the conservatives. We will not risk the foolishness of a rebellion against more than twice our numbers, quadruple our numbers once the south and the east rise to the King's defense." Kayleth snapped.

"Fine, then. I'm going alone!" Alice shouted.

"Over my cold, dead, and decaying body, you will! I swear, I'll kill the Prince if you dare-"

Alice kneeled in front of Zephiel, who stared in surprise.

"Your Highness, though I am but one rider, I beg you take me into your service. I pledge my mind, body, and soul to your cause. Please, grant me the honor of accepting my lance."

To Kayleth's horror, Zephiel took the lance. "I accept, Lady Alice, daughter of the Duke of Hamor and the ruler of Winterfell-"

"Pardon me, your Highness, but no. He is no father of mine, just as the Duchess is no mother of mine." Alice cut Zephiel off gently.

"Very well then-"

"Wait a minute here." Kayleth growled. "Whoever said you can go as you please, Alice? If you go, it will be the death of you! I swear, I'll-"

"Lock me up? Discipline me?" Alice retorted coolly, and Kayleth faltered for a moment, his mind racing through possibilities. He would never resort to that. He would not do as his parents did. In this instance, he wished he could, but it would be contrary to the reasons he had in rescuing Alice in the first place. Others, without a second thought, but never Alice or his own children; that was the stuff of his darkest nightmares, to hurt those in his charge as his father had hurt him.

Kayleth had vowed to give his sister and children choice. At age seventeen, Alice had every right to make her choice. It was the wrong choice, it was the risky choice, it was the proud choice, but it was also a dutiful and informed choice.

"… Whatever I say, you're going to join him, the Prince who forsook his people, over me, your brother? War and misery over the happiness of your nieces?"

"He is going back for Bern, brother, and if anyone is an example of redemption, one only has to look at you." Alice said, kneeling on the ground and hugging Kayleth's right knee. "I'm not a child anymore, Kayleth. I'm not eight years old. The Prince's cause is just. You know it. I know it."

Kayleth felt his defenses weaken as her eyes stared pleadingly into his own. If it were anyone else, Kayleth could say no just for spite. What Alice said did have merit. She was no longer a child. She was blooded, and four years ago at that. Were she still in Court, she would probably have been married recently. It tore at his heart, but she was entitled to her own choice.

After all, is it not choice that separates man from animals?

Kayleth lifted his sister up, until she drew back to her full height. His eyes taking in the evidence that Alice was indeed no longer eight years old, but a young maiden. If she was going to war, Kayleth only had one viable choice.

"I accept, your Highness." Kayleth said. "I have certain conditions, though."

"Done."

Kayleth raised an eyebrow. "Uh… I have lots of potentially preposterous conditions. Are you sure?"

"Sigismund informs me that only you can overcome the Codiciers at their own game, Baron. Besides, I need an edge if I want to face overwhelming odds. I happen to have a great deal of trust in his judgment, and your record speaks for itself. I have no choice but to accept your 'potentially preposterous' conditions. Out of curiosity, what are they?"

"After my parents lie dead, my sister will become Duchess of Hamor with her seat in Winterfell. You will have to repeal the law of primogeniture. My sister will not be your hawk, though. I will. You'll also have to make me a Count, of… uh…-"

"Sutherland?" Athielle suggested.

"Yes, why not? It's in Hamor and the current Count is a conservative imbecile. I'd make a great replacement, and it would give me the rank to be chief tactician of your army, your Highness. I will create a sixteenth legion, and Legio XVI will always be under my direct command. I ask that my sister be placed under my command. I need you to grant some pardons to my, ah… recruits and associates. A couple of them might need a Barony. Abolishment and diminishing of seigneurial privileges in the inner Duchies and the establishment of Habeas Corpus. There are some economic and administrative reforms I'd like you to consider after you become King, too."

"Sixteenth? Going for the symbolism, are we? All accepted. Would you like it in writing?" Zephiel inquired.

"Nah. A piece of paper won't mean anything if your word doesn't mean anything, your Highness."

"Well, then, would you like to be granted peerage right now?"

"I can wait until we actually take Sutherland, your Highness. I will bend my knee when we do."

"Good. My forces will take about two months to gather at Boulder Ridge. Can I expect you then?"

"Yes, your Highness. If it is no trouble to you, have Sigismund contact me. Will you be staying the night?"

"No, I have business to take care of. Until then, farewell." Zephiel, Vaida, and Athielle all drew their hoods over their heads again.

"Farewell, your Highness. Stay safe!" Kayleth shouted as the three wyvern riders took off into the Sacaen night sky.

As the wyvern riders became dots in the sky, Alice said, "What now?"

"… There's nothing for it. Scrape together all of our gold. Call in all favors. Send word to all of our friends. We go to war."

* * *

Omake

Kayleth had just about no interest in this event, for the lack of a better word, that Ninian had conjured up.

For all he knew, it was a draconic ritual of mind control, and he refused to wear the costume Ninian had picked for him.

The expenditure in buying the sugar was quite high, too. Thankfully, as host, Eliwood be paying for the sugar and Kayleth had no compunction against ordering as much as possible while not making it too obvious that he intended Pherae to go bankrupt. It would support Alice's sweet tooth for three years, at least.

It was October 31st, and Ninian thought it would be fun to reenact Halloween.

A great majority of the army Kayleth had employed in the War against Nergal was there. Most of them had been hired for one mission Kayleth had been contracted to do in Araphen, namely that of assassinating the Viscount who led his armies into Pherae. As was typical, Eliwood insisted on diplomacy before sending armies. Hector had no compunction against hiring Kayleth to solve the problem.

Lands ruled by weak rulers were bound to get invaded. Eliwood was practically a cash cow for Kayleth.

Afterwards, Kayleth and the army headed over to Ostia for an international conference about pirates. Kayleth took care not to be seen by those from his own Duchy, while pushing against any form of decisive action against the pirates. While he had nothing but contempt for most pirates, some were in his employ and were quite profitable in their endeavors.

Then, Eliwood invited Kayleth and his army to stay at Pherae before heading back to their respective hometowns. Kayleth agreed, since staying at Ostia wasn't free and they might as well get some rest before returning to their homes.

"That can't be right! There is no evidence that dragons sacrificed human lives in any form of ritual!" Pent insisted.

"My Lord, just because there is no evidence does not mean that it did not happen. I know most of the Scouring propaganda is, well, propaganda, but there's likely to be a shred of truth in it!" Erk shouted back.

"Now, now. This has to be a fertility ritual. Dragons had such low rates of childbirth, there had to be at least one. Besides, Lady Ninian only has one child with Lord Eliwood," Canas interjected.

"Nonsense," Erk snapped, "why would one ever wear such silly costumes and go about asking for candy in a Saint-damned fertility ritual?"

Those three were Kayleth's impromptu task force dedicated to finding out what the purpose of the ritual was. They were sadly lacking in any definitive or even logical answers, and quite tiresome to listen to in their incessant argument over nothing. Kayleth wouldn't even be watching if it weren't for the fact that they were dressed in quite interesting costumes. Canas was dressed up as a humanoid pumpkin with a grinning face, speaking of which the non-humanoid version dotted the landscape of citadel Pherae. Erk was dressed like a mage, but in a more comical and ancient fashion with a pointy top hat and black all around. Pent was in a costume that was vaguely reminiscent of Athos. Ninian said it was a costume for wise men. Kayleth thought he looked like human priests from the earliest days of humanity, and was doing a good job at looking silly.

What Kayleth found most questionable were the costumes for the women. Not that they did not have logical sense, because they did. All of these costumes were supposedly meant to scare away monsters and evil. What he did find objectionable was how short the skirts were, especially on Alice.

_"Since when did nurses come in such skirts?"_

"Having fun?" Kayleth flinched as Ninian appeared at his side.

Her costume gave her blue dragon wings, and she held Roy, now aged five, by her side. Roy had red dragon wings.

"Just to be clear... quarter dragons can't transform, right?"

"You wouldn't believe me anyways, but no. They don't even get dragonstones."

"So, witch, what is the true purpose of this ritual?"

Ninian rolled her eyes. "I told you a few minutes ago."

"I don't believe a word of it."

"Really, even after so many sessions in which I told you the history of my kind?"

"You have no incentive to lie about that. You might for whatever diabolical purposes you have for this one."

"Halloween is a tradition in which we, dragons, put on masks to ward off evil spirits and predators who might take advantage of the weakened barrier between this realm and the next."

Kayleth scoffed at the suggestion, "You really expect me to believe dragons, twenty feet long and fifteen feet wide, fear 'evil spirits and predators?'"

"Why," Ninian's eyes twinkled in amusement, "there is a predator out there for all species, Kayleth. Why ever would you think there isn't one that preys on dragons?"

The thought chilled Kayleth for a moment. Humanity would not survive a war with predators that prey on dragons. "Daemons, of a sort?"

"I thought you didn't believe a word of what I said?" Ninian shifted to the side to let Dart, dressed like a pirate as befitting of his profession, hurtle past. An irate for some reason Rebecca in an outrageously revealing 'bunny suit', as Ninian put it, chased after her probable brother, wielding a disproportionately large frying pan.

"Rebecca, herd him into a dead end!" Kayleth advised as Rebecca sprinted past, giving him a thumbs up without looking back.

"Don't give her advice!" Farina hissed as she chased after Rebecca. She was wearing a costume much like Dart's, but with a top that left her belly bare and pants that Ninian called 'shorts'. The dragons obviously had zero sense of decency in clothes, seeing as the 'shorts' didn't cover much more than Farina's arse.

"No military talk in front of my son," Ninian insisted.

"He's going to be Marquess Pherae some day, and military duty is a job requirement despite what Eliwood would have you believe. Anyways, the situation has changed. If there is anything that can prey on dragons, I need to know about them," Kayleth stroked Roy's head, reminding the half-dragon that he always had a hostage.

"There are all sorts of them. Which one would you like to learn of first?"

"All sorts as in more than one? The one most pertinent to humanity then." Kayleth raised an eyebrow as a pregnant Lady Louise huffed and puffed her way up the stairs. "He's in the second room to the right."

"Thanks," Louise said curtly. If there was one thing Kayleth was grateful for, it was that pregnancy and long walks did not mix well for her and she didn't annoy Kayleth as much when she was tired. A Geitz looking like a barbarian of old in animal skin clothes supported her.

"All right. Faeries." Louise was wearing pixie wings and wielded a wand.

Kayleth chuckled at the thought of a pixie preying on a dragon, but saw that Ninian was quite serious.

"You thought we published the _Tales of Brothers Grimm_ for no reason?" Ninian smirked.

"Fairy tales," Kayleth dismissed.

"Sometimes, fairies are real, and they come in oh so dangerous flavors. Take care that you come to incur no debt with one."

"I can see them hunting humans, but dragons?"

"I told you, they come in many dangerous flavors. Some of them powerful enough to prey on dragonkind. That is why we dragons allied with humans, actually."

"You're joking. What can humans do against such dangerous fae?"

"Humans had iron weapons. Dragons had no need for them and did not."

"So they're weak against iron."

"It is poison to them," Ninian nodded.

"And silver is poison to almost all monsters but dragons."

"I'm glad you remembered."

"Never know if they have their own version of Dragon's Gate, which would be annoying."

Dart rushed past them again, closely followed by Rebecca and Farina despite their relatively short legs. An irate Marcus dressed like the cross of a man and a wolf chased them, screaming nonsense about how expensive curtains were at the top of his lungs.

"Oh dear," Ninian said, noticing the small fire coming from the balcony upstairs. Thankfully, Lowen had the situation under control, if his ridiculous cape did not catch on fire. As amusing as it would be to watch Pherae burn, Kayleth did not feel like spending gold at the local inn.

"So... you expect me to believe that dragons, not exactly a race known for superstition, to have come up with this ritual just to ward off creatures that they can mostly fight on an equal basis?"

"Of course not. It really took off when our candy makers promoted it as a day when you buy candies."

"... It's a ritual designed exclusively for commercialism?!"

"Yes. We are not as different from humans as you think," Ninian chuckled as she watched over the gaggle of soldiers she put in outlandish costumes. "And all this, just to amuse myself watching humans look foolish while reminding me of home."

Kayleth wasn't sure whether whether he should be disturbed by her manipulation or worried about her homesickness. It was alright, though. He wasn't the one paying for the costumes nor the sweets, and Lyn looked very fetching in her maid costume, which would be a maid costume only in the loosest sense of the term and more likely a cross between what maids wear and what prostitutes wear.

* * *

Some omakes are feasible and some are not. Halloween in the modern tradition is obviously not even remotely feasible in pre-industrial revolution times, for quite obvious reasons, and thus, this never happened in the canon of the stories. Only retards would need an explanation but for the reasoning impaired: 1) where would they get so much sugar? 2) material for the costumes? You think they had slavery in cotton fields for no reason? We have enough these days because cotton field workers in India and the like are practically slaves for all intents and purposes 3) you really think skimpy costumes for women would be socially acceptable when they weren't even allowed to join acting troupes? 4) medieval superstitions 5) are you retarded? My stories are recommended for those of at least average intelligence. These were times when people starved to death with one harvest gone bad. If you're one of those people who romanticize about Ladies and Lords, the Victorian times, etc, you're a moron. There is no golden age of the past. The golden age is NOW, make no mistake about it, unless you're Greek or Argentinian in which case my advice is to start working and stop whining and freeloading. In Victorian times, you'd be lucky to survive until age 45. 35 if you're of the proletariat. That's British, that was wealthiest country in the world at the time, standard. Who are you kidding? You'd most likely have been a prole, and a servant at that, and in some shat hole like Austria or France, or worse, the non-West. The city? Another word for a death trap of rats and disease. If you're a woman, you'd need to survive childbirth, too. Protest? You'd get ridden down by the police on horseback and that's in the most liberal country on Earth. You could die from things so simple as polio or tb. WTF? God those were horribad times, and you're lucky to have been born these days no matter where you're born with the exception of North Korea.

If the omakes are feasible (i.e. could have happened, there's nothing to suggest they could not have happened), you can consider them canon.

Kayleth and Lyn leave children to their adoptive tribe, the Borjigin, Alice is a Wyvern Knight. K and L run an inn, Seventh Heaven, of course! Hired some enforcers, a Bishop (Hale), a sage (Rylai Crestfall, Pent's niece), a Valkyrie (Jill of House Valentine), two Falcon Knights (Ilya and Alleria), two Nomads Troopers (Chen, Voljin), three Paladins (Lady Michaela, who handed control of her estate to Arya, her nephew. Mihail, and Percival), two Heroes (Maka and Elcie), a swordmaster (Rika)

Sain, though not shown in this story, is regent of Caelin.

Alice and Kayleth's POV. Alice's wyvern is called Fenrir.

Nine years after the final battle, a year of civil war in which the rebels finally organize, they have funds, Wyvern Knights and some nobles, not so many can be killed b/c they need to be alive for FE6 invasions. Vaida, Nino, Jaffar, Athielle, Guy, Matthew, Legault, Raven, Lucius, Bartre, Wallace, Wil, Rebecca, Geitz, make a return. Opposing force includes Kayleth's parents as well as most of Bern's nobles.

Cutting supply lines, assassinating key Loyalist figures, and eventually killing the King. Zephiel makes appearances from time to time, I suppose. Jaffar joins some time during the war.

Eleven chapters. Currently under reconstruction with omakes at the end.


	2. The Opening

Alice was thrilled.

Kayleth was too stubborn to admit it, but he was, too. How could he not be, when all of his life's work was about to come to fruition? Admittedly there was the chance that he could be defeated, but Alice shoved that thought down the deepest corner of her mind. They would not, could not, and should not be defeated.

Even Lyn was coming. Her sister-in-law and surrogate mother figure had a huge argument with Kayleth. She had never seen her brother so livid and frustrated, other than, perhaps, the day she joined him on the battlefield some two years ago for the first time. Alice knew that Kayleth was going to assign her to rearguard duties to try to 'protect' her, but she knew that he knew that he couldn't do the same to Lyn. He tried to convince Lyn that their children needed her, and used the angle of this war not being her war, but Lyn dismissed the concern, saying that Pherae and Ostia would serve perfectly as their home for the duration of their campaign. She reminded him of their first pact and Kayleth almost frothed over in his mouth to death.

Otherwise, Kayleth was being quite literal when he said that he would scrape together all of their resources, call in all favors, and send word to all of their friends.

All the gold that he and the revolutionaries had sprinkled away as investment outside Bern returned. It was a mighty war chest, capable of rivaling the inner Duchies' for two or three years.

Mercenary Pegasus Knight companies flew down from Ilia, accepting half-pay in the knowledge that if the revolution did not succeed Bern would invade. Fiora, Dart, and Kent sent their regrets that they could not be present personally, for they already had work in Etruria and the loyalty of a Pegasus Knight, as long as it was paid for, was sacred. Alice regretted it too, for she missed them dearly. At least Farina came, and dragged her wing with her.

The hill tribes and the forest dwellers of western Bern rose, too, to repay Kayleth for all his work in curbing banditry in the area. Truth be told, that only happened because Kayleth wanted Alice and his troops to gain as much experience as possible without truly endangering herself when she was still new to combat, but neither she nor he would tell them that. There was also the point of monopolizing the banditry against rich caravans but Kayleth told nobody that.

The Pirate Kings and the Merchant Princes of the Western Isles sent their support, in men, gold, food, and ships. Kayleth was a major contact when it came to smuggling operations and notices of Bern's Home Fleet movements. There was also the matter of the infamous Fire of Durhamport, a major naval base, which hindered effective fleet movements and patrols in the southwest; the fire was no accident, and Kayleth finally collected on their debt.

Their foster tribe, the Borjigin, silently and stoically sent almost forty of their nomads to support them. Kayleth's providing the tribesmen safe haven inside Bulgar's walls had done wonders for trade and prosperity. The tribe, in its typically stoic Sacaen fashion, honored its debt and loyalty to fellow tribe members. Bolstering their numbers was nearly sixty Kutolah nomads, who were hired as 'mercenaries'. Dayan had sent them after hearing about the mad King's plans.

Their Etrurian friends were sorry that they could not, themselves, get involved in a Bernese civil war, but managed to pry loose five scores of monks, mages, and troubadours for a 'sabbatical' in Bern. They were fortunate that Erk was still Mage General of Etruria, for the 'sabbatical,' for some inexplicable reason, apparently required some million gold. Kayleth gleefully accepted the 'tuition' fee, having bought the business charter of the real mage guild that was supposed to prepare the sabbatical. The Count and Countess Reglay sent their regards, along with an Elysian Whip Kayleth had promised for Alice when she was skilled enough.

Hector and Eliwood sent their regrets, stating similar concerns in not being involved in a domestic affair. However, the Lords of the Lycian League saw fit to send an 'exploratory mission' to the mountains that constituted the no-man's land between Lycia and Bern. The expedition was led by Wil, Rebecca, and Matthew, none of whom had official loyalty to trace back to Lycia. They also required three scores of cavalry and three scores of heavily armored knights as their bodyguards, and brought a great deal of gold to fund their 'expedition.' Naturally, they got lost and ended up in Bulgar, whereupon a 'silver-tongued, fork-toothed, lying rebellious scum' named Kayleth offered to be their guide.

Best of all, their friends appeared as individuals and offered their services as 'mercenaries' to the Red Baron. They all accepted wages of one gold piece per annum, to be reimbursed if they proved victorious. Nino and Jaffar came out of their hiding in the frozen tundra of Ilia. Sir Wallace, now retired, got 'lost' again and ended up at Seventh Heaven. Guy, with two apprentices, came to further his path on the Way of the Sword. Raven, Lucius, and Legault arrived first from Araphen, mere days from Bulgar. Bartre and Geitz arrived as well, seeking more adventure as was their wont. With the motley group of mercenaries Kayleth had hired for Seventh Heaven since quite a few years ago, they would form the sixteenth Legion: Legio XVI, the Defiant.

All in all, Kayleth brought much gold and nearly four regular Legions and auxiliaries to the Prince's banner. Alice could not be more proud. She'd have to make sure to meet the expectations for herself, too, and lashed out with her sword at Heath once more.

It took perhaps an hour for Lyn and Kayleth to explain what they were doing to Madelyn, their eldest daughter now eight years old. Kayleth thanked God she was a mature sort, much more mature than he was when he was thirteen, and that Eliwood and Hector would look after her. The girl bade them come back alive and kissed them on the cheeks.

Kayleth was a little disappointed at how little resistance she put up.

It took many, many more hours to explain the same thing to Pearl, now four and a half years old, and Kayleth would have to be lying if he didn't say that he and Lyn almost gave up on the war when she started bawling and crying. Eventually, they just had to say their own tearful goodbyes and Kayleth signaled Serra to put her to sleep, which she did promptly with a sleeping staff.

Alice had said her own goodbyes to her nieces, but had the keen sense to bribe them with sweets and promises of gifts when she returned. Honestly, her brother and sister-in-law could be so dense at times, and Kayleth counted himself among the best manipulators in the world.

Kayleth sent Serra and Oswin back with his daughters, along with the first and only copy of the _Blazing Sword_. Serra and Oswin apologized that they could not do more to help, but assured Kayleth of his daughters' safety. Kayleth merely smiled and said he would find a way to open the Gate again if they were harmed. It spoke of the trust he had in the pair that he did not resort to more colorful and extensive threats.

* * *

"Lady Alice."

Alice turned around to face the exiled Wyvern Knight, who had poked his head inside the wagon. "Yes, Heath?"

"We're here."

Alice leapt out of the wagon and set her eyes upon Boulder Ridge.

Sixeen Legions, auxiliaries, and camp followers. It was a spectacular sight. Wyvern Knights patrolled the skies by the dozens. Thousands of campfires dotted the landscape.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Kayleth said, gazing at the rows and rows of humanity's instruments of war.

Alice didn't need to be told why. This was the fruition of more than a decade of Kayleth's labor, the stuff of his dreams: a revolutionary army to cleanse Bern of its oppressive and outdated system. Kayleth already had a long list of reforms in mind, reforms that would hopefully raise the standard of living in all of Bern to be more like that of the Duchy of Hamor, their home.

"So many… and you say the King can call more than twice that number to his side?" Lyn said.

"These numbers are nothing. The inner Duchies have more people than the outer duchies do, Lyn. Furthermore, not all of the nobles in the outer duchies have pledged themselves to our Prince." Alice answered. "Even here, some of the nobles recognize that they are more likely to live if they side with the King. Aside from our Wyvern Knights, most of our troops are inexperienced. The King also has more gold, so he only needs to buy enough time for our gold to run out."

"We have several advantages we can count on, though. Don't worry, Lyn." Kayleth reassured her.

"Oh? Would you care to mention some of them?" Lyn snorted.

"Sure. Hmm… for one, I know exactly how the enemy tacticians, the Codiciers that is, think. Or, rather, not think and blindly follow the equations of the Codex. We're more desperate, and it is in our best interest to not drag the war out. It lends a certain sense of… urgency to our cause, which, given any other circumstances, would be harmful. Bear in mind, however, that I've been planning for a revolution for years. I made up to twenty three invasion plans which diverge as according to the situation. We hold the initiative, and they will be forced to react. We don't need to capture every fort and castle along the way to the capital, we just need a few key holdout. I calculate a reasonable chance for success, almost half and half, as a matter of fact."

"Yes, that does much to allay my fears." Lyn rolled her eyes.

"Don't forget, we also have Legio XVI, half of whom are dragonslayers." Kayleth grinned. "Including you, my love."

"Now you're just trying to make me feel good." Lyn laughed, and Alice laughed along with her.

"Baron Kayleth, the Prince and the Chancellor request your presence."

"Ah, Wyvern General Murdock, long time, no see!" Kayleth bowed almost as low as Alice had ever witnessed him bow. It was a bow to equals. That was understandable. General Murdock was of peasant blood, blood worth less than a flea's as far as the Bernese Court is concerned. He rose, however, to the prestigious position of Wyvern General of Bern, and that said something about him that could not be ignored.

Murdock was a natural, and his initial training in the wandering mercenary companies of Hamor had proven to all of Bern that he was worthy of a seat in the Hierarchy, the Bernese ministry in charge of anything to do with the military.

"Indeed, you were a kid my age at the Academy when I met you." Murdock chuckled. "Now you are the Red Baron, the bane of the Black Fang, and possibly the vanguard of this revolution. I hear from the Prince that yours was the group that rescued him all those years ago, too?"

"General Murdock." Alice curtsied with as much grace as her dress-armor would allow. Technically, she didn't have to, but she was happy to meet a person whom even Kayleth acknowledged as significant, noteworthy, and deserving of respect rarely shown to anyone but comrades and family.

"Hello, uh…." Murdock shrugged, for he had never seen her before.

"Ooh, let me introduce you two. General Murdock, this is my sister, Alice, the future Duchess of Winterfell-"

"You mean Hamor."

"It is one and the same, Murdock." Kayleth said. "A matter of semantics, nothing more. He who controls Winterfell controls Hamor, and he who controls Hamor controls the-"

"Swiftest passage from the outer Duchies to the capital. I am a Hamorian, Baron," Murdock grunted, lifting up a huge bundle of firewood.

"Forgive me, General, I did not mean to be patronizing. As I was saying, this is Alice. Alice, this is Wyvern General Murdock, and one of the greatest military men Bern has seen in… let's say two centuries."

"Nonsense." Murdock waved off Kayleth's comment. "I'm sure I wouldn't fit in the top hundred in the last century."

Kayleth raised an eyebrow. "Uncouth peasants like to lie, Alice, don't listen to a word of what this man says. He's at least top five of the last century. Rather comparable to Wyvern General Vaida."

"Manipulative, and parasitic nobles like to lie, Lady Alice, don't listen to a word of what this man says," Murdock chuckled. "Anyhow, you didn't tell me you had a stunning beauty of a sister squirreled away in your castle, Kayleth. Shame on you! You do know I'm a lonely, lonely man."

"For God's sake she was two years old, at the most, when we met. By the way, touch her and you die."

"What, with your heretofore carefully hidden skill with the lance?" Murdock said skeptically.

"Nah, I like to hide behind my wife's skirt when it comes to violence. That is Lyndis, by the way. Lyndis, this is Murdock." Kayleth grinned. "Surely you didn't think I changed that much?"

Murdock didn't hear what he said, because he and Lyn were busy analyzing each other. Nothing intentional. Just the professional curiosity of two experienced warriors. Alice was unnerved by the amount of tension that ran through the exchange. It seemed that they would strike each other at any moment now. At the least, they were entertaining what kind of a fight it would be in their minds.

Alice knew that if Murdock and she were to fight, she would not last the first blow despite her armor and her sword. To fight a serious Lyn was, of course, tantamount to suicide. She had seen Lyn fight during the first few months since her own initiation; most of Lyn's opponents might as well stand still for the good it would do them.

The tension cooled down as Lyn turned away and Murdock started talking to Alice.

"So, my Lady, or should I say, Your Grace?"

"You may call me Alice, General. I am not Duchess until Winterfell falls."

"Good, you may call me Murdock. Always did think that this Lady, Lord business wasted too much time in military men-and women."

"We're keeping the Prince and the Chancellor waiting." Kayleth said impatiently. "Talk while you walk. By the way, it is 'my Lady'. Call her Alice again and I really will kill you."

"Yes, yes, ever the slave driver, this one. Did he ever tell you about the time our entire Legion had to carry our own supplies on our backs because he wanted to get to our destination two days earlier? Drove the horses and the oxen to death, he did, and damn near killed off the men, too." Murdock said conversationally as he fell in behind the tactician.

"The moral of the story, Lyn, Alice, is that we annihilated the bandits with five deaths and thirteen injuries because we caught them off guard." Kayleth snorted as Chen and Voljin rode over to take their position at his sides.

"A score of our men collapsed due to exhaustion." Murdock went on as if he didn't hear what Kayleth had said. "Mind, he was back then the son of your father, so we dared not say it in front of him, but we called him Kayleth Slave Driver."

"Wha-really?" Kayleth said, startled. "I mean, I knew the soldiers weren't happy, but I thought they'd be grateful about the lack of significant casualties."

"He's still a slave driver," Alice laughed.

"Enough with the slave driver. I despise the institution of slavery. It is no mistake that those under my direct command are in Legio XVI." Kayleth grumbled.

"Boss, a messenger has arrived from the eastern coasts." Rika, one of the mercenaries Kayleth hired, handed him a letter, which Kayleth promptly started reading.

"Yes, thank you. Go along and continue your exercises."

"What does it say?" Murdock asked.

"One of our opening gambits was more or less successful. The Pirate Kings have sacked the port city of Deprimidas. The duchy of Grimstone has no way to ferry its troops to the front within the next three months. The Southeast Passage is open. Our allies' fleets can now harry the Home Fleet with impunity."

"And…?"

"… How did you know that, Murdock?"

"You always did grip whatever is in your grasp too tightly when you heard bad news." Murdock pointed at the crumpled letter.

"One of my other gambits has failed. I had hoped Eastwatch be taken by surprise by our allies in the southeast when the bandits I hired drew away some of its garrison. All forty eight revolutionaries have been killed and their corpses have been crucified."

"Will that be a problem?"

"It was a diversionary stratagem at best, though I had hoped they would succeed. It is no matter in the grand scheme of total war."

"Brother!" Alice said reproachfully.

"Huh? Oh… well, yes, I'm sorry they died, too." Kayleth said, and he had decades of practice at lying. They were incompetents, but incompetents with free will who knew the risks. Idiots deserved to die.

"Ah, here we are." Murdock said as they reached the obvious command tent. Ten knights surrounded the tent, and the importance of the tent was all the more apparent by their arms, all silver. "I'm afraid I can't let Lady Lyndis come with us."

"She could have killed him a long time ago." Kayleth rolled his eyes.

"You'll also have to disarm, Kayleth, Alice."

"Really? Because I didn't have opportunities enough to betray the Prince already, right?" Kayleth said, a little more force in his voice.

"That's alright, General Murdock, let the man and his family through."

Kayleth had not heard that voice for years, and brushed past Murdock to hug one of his dearest friends.

"Sigismund. You've grown even thinner. The rumors are true. The Chancellor, by any other name, would be a slave."

"We'll soon work you hard enough." Sigismund laughed. "Welcome home, brother. It's time for you to take your rightful place in Bern."

"I… ah… won't be staying."

Sigismund stepped back, scowling. "What do you mean by you won't be staying?"

"I'm here to set things to rights, no more. I'm going back to Sacae after the war, whether we win or lose. My sister will rule in my stead as Duchess, if we win."

"You can't-"

"There is nothing to discuss, Sigismund. End of that line of conversation." Kayleth said grimly, then forced a smile on his face. "Ah, where are my manners? Everyone, this is Sigismund, one of my oldest friends and rivals. Sigismund, this is Lyn, my wife, and Alice, my sister."

"Marchioness Caelin. Duchess Hamor," Sigismund bowed low. Alice curtsied and Lyn gave him a curt nod.

"It's okay, Alice. He's just a random Count's fourth son. Not even second or third, but fourth, I tell you! There is no need to curtsy, or bow any lower than an inch." Kayleth grinned.

"That random Count has joined us, actually." Sigismund said after a delicate cough.

"Did he now, and with his County so deep in the inner Duchies? You still outrank him, Alice, don't curtsy in the future. Matter of fact, he ought to be grateful that you even allow him in your presence and breathe the same air as you do." Kayleth said.

"After all these years you still love to act an elitist boor, do you?"

"Who said I'm acting? You know my opinion of the masses."

"True." Sigismund sighed.

"If you're done, please be seated, you're late." Vaida snapped.

"Nice to meet you, too, General." Kayleth said as he sat.

"You've been keeping busy, Baron." Zephiel noted. "We find ourselves with more allies, gold, and men then we had anticipated."

"Speaking of our allies, they have sacked the port of Deprimidas, your Highness."

"Good. Duke Remmy will have to take some time assembling his troops elsewhere."

"That detestable conservative husk? Longer, I imagine, to see how this war plays out before he makes his commitment. Even that's if he doesn't die of old age first!" Vaida spat.

"Huh. Your political acumen is sharper than I had expected, General. It would indeed be in his best interest to do that. Meanwhile, we can send him an envoy of our own." Kayleth agreed, and pointing at the Sage in the room, asked, "What's that?"

"I am Brenya, Lord, His Highness's third Wyvern General." The woman curtsied.

Kayleth studied this unknown, scrutinizing her as a child might scrutinize the picked-off wings of a captive fly.

"Any training in leading armies?"

"I am Countess Alewife, Lord."

"Ah, a highlander, I feel more relieved already. I am sorry for your father's loss."

"He passed away years ago, my Lord, and my new allegiance is to the Duke, yes," Brenya acknowledged. "In this instance, however, His Grace's judgment is criminally faulty. It is my duty to correct him, and seat a suitable replacement of the House on the throne in Winterfell."

"A sound reasoning," Kayleth shrugged. He noted how her eyes wandered every now and then to Zephiel, though. Something would need to be done about that, and by something it would be a conversation on the realistic politics of their marriage and a dressing-down on the unsuitability of their match. Obviously, he'd have to do it. A more stable and powerful bloodline was needed when the Prince took the throne. He had several candidates in mind. "You know who I am. I bid you welcome… you're young for a Wyvern General." Kayleth bowed.

"You're young for a chief tactician, Lord." Brenya countered.

"Hmm… I find that I can't counter that logic, Your Highness. I didn't know you sought brains in your Generals." Kayleth winked at Murdock, who snorted and bit his thumb at him.

"Really, now, they're Generals for a reason." Sigismund said.

"I'm having trouble believing that a third-rate academic like you is Chancellor, so don't push it." Kayleth taunted.

"Ahem." Zephiel said, and even Kayleth shut his mouth. "As I was saying… we were planning where to strike first, Kayleth."

"Why, we don't have much of a choice in that matter, your Highness."

"What do you mean we don't have much of a choice?" Zephiel's brows furrowed.

"I informed the loyalist nobles of the outer Duchies of our location. Five Legions' worth of soldiers are heading here as we speak."

"You did what?!" Vaida shrieked, stomping the ground with her lance.

"Uh… you know we'll take casualties, right?" Sigismund said, trying to discern what Kayleth's intent was.

"Why should we? We're going to trap them and make as many of them surrender as possible. This ridge is one of my favorite spots to ambush caravans-"

"You've been practicing banditry?" Murdock said, not particularly surprised.

"Nah. I call it reallocation of income for the optimal societal benefit."

"So, I guess you have a plan, Lord?" Brenya asked.

"Of course I do. If they want to get to where I told them we'd be, their army has to pass through this ridge." Kayleth pointed out the spot on the map. "Then, using my plan, we cut off their retreat and tell them to surrender."

"If they don't?" Murdock said, contemplating.

"We give them incentives to kill their more obstinate leaders. Life and possible promotions. Kill a Duke, and you might become a Duke, and things of that sort. If there's one thing we can rely on, it's the human capacity for greed. Who wouldn't go for that? Not everyone in the world is a loyal and selfless bore like you are." Kayleth shrugged. "Life or death tends to motivate people."

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me…." Alice said in the brightly lit and spacious tent Kayleth had set up.

"Deadly serious. Would you like to look at Lyn's?" Kayleth smirked.

"But I am willing! I didn't even want to be under your direct command in the first place!"

"Unacceptable. Only after a tattoo will I find your commitment to the cause staunch enough to allow you to remain. You're welcome to go back, if you'd like."

"This is not fair at all! You thought of this just to send me back, didn't you?!"

"You're being paranoid."

"Of course I am. This is you we're talking about!"

Heath sighed, Alice and Kayleth had been arguing for nearly half an hour now. "Lady Alice, you know that the Prince will take, pardon me, this scheming bastard's side. It's not that bad, and his argument is impeccable. Or, you can go back."

"I don't see his anywhere!" Alice said. She was well aware of how most people thought she shouldn't be in Kayleth's private Legion, or the army at all for that matter. One of the most prominent among them was Heath, who thought that raids and skirmishes were acceptable; he did not think it acceptable on the matter of the kind of special missions Legio XVI would undertake as troubleshooters for Prince Zephiel's army, for Alice was not even a full Wyvern Lord yet.

Even Lord Pent, Eliwood, and Hector sent her letters, begging her to reconsider.

"Err… his is inked in a place you are not, under any circumstances, allowed to see. I'll have you castrated and fed alive to rats in the sewers if she ever sees, Heath, whether you show it by accident or by design." Kayleth said. The change of his tone when speaking to Heath was remarkable. One could instantly feel the level of malice and killing intent he put in his voice.

"What about hers?" Alice pointed at Michaela.

"On the back of her neck." Kayleth answered.

Alice didn't even ask for permission before lifting Michaela's hair up to confirm. To her surprise, there was one there. A winged fist with the number XVI engraved on it. It was placed in the middle of the chained shackles snapped by the fist in half. The coat of arms of Lady Michaela's House was drawn under the fist, with the House motto engraved on the rim of the shield.

"Umm… Lady Alice, this is getting uncomfortable." Michaela said, blushing. Alice had always suspected that she had a little more than affection for her tutor. Heath was completely unaware of this, of course. He was a barely functioning idiot in most things.

"Ah, my apologies Lady Michaela. For my brother's inexcusable behavior, that is." Alice glared at her brother, who had a triumphant smirk on his face.

"The winged fist and the shackles are mandatory. The rest is up each individual's aesthetic preference. Unless, of course, you'd prefer not to have needles touch your body. Well then, I'll have the papers drawn up immediately for your resignation from this army." Kayleth said.

Alice could not bear to do it. Only criminals and pirates had tattoos. Slaves had them too, before slavery was abolished by Bern's sixteenth King. She would die of mortification if, heaven forbid, Prince Zephiel saw hers, and would kill herself if she didn't die. She had tried all of her tried and true tactics against Kayleth, but he didn't even budge this time. She knew that his knowledge of her unwillingness was only a part of the show. This was the level of commitment Kayleth expected from his personal troops, the ones who would level the difference between ten and thirty Legions; from that standpoint, this was justifiable. It seemed, after all, that all of the others had tattoos.

Lyn's was sported prominently on the outer side of her right thigh. Hers was inked with the image of Seventh Heaven's coat of arms as the background. Her heaven showed endless fields of grass and a clear blue sky. The only deviation from the coat of arms was the horses running freely through the grass. Alice noticed that she engraved the same tattoo on the hilt of Sol Katti in silver.

Kayleth's was on his left palm. It was identical to Lyn's in most aspects. His heaven, though, had a hill strewn with swords either strewn about or embedded in it. Inscribed underneath was the phrase 'For the future, at all costs, liberty or death'. It was the famed quote of the sixteenth King of Bern.

If captured, they would not die easy deaths. The enemy would surely take their time with them. Yet, they all had themselves tattooed. Though it was degrading and perilous to do so, they accepted it. They had less of an incentive to fight than she did. Lady Michaela, for instance, was willing because she believed in the ideology behind the revolution. Matthew came because he was ordered to do so. Bartre just came to fight.

"_I fight for the sake of my family. I fight for my Prince, who is worthy of becoming King. I fight for my people, as is my duty as a peer of the realm._"

Alice realized that a tattoo was a trivial concern. Then, she felt anger at Kayleth, who apparently thought that this cheap trick would work.

"Brother… did you think me so vain that you thought I'd refuse?" Alice growled, her words dripping outrage.

"What?! You're going to accept?" Kayleth said. That was unexpected. Alice valued her appearance and reputation very much. He had also counted on Zephiel's presence to be a powerful deterrent. It seemed that Alice had more resolve than he had thought.

"Yes. Now send in this 'artist' of yours. We're going to need a little privacy." Alice said, glaring daggers at her brother.

Kayleth's mouth opened as though he would say something, and then closed. This cycle went on for a while.

"Yes, and it's a woman, so don't worry." Lyn smiled, dragging Kayleth out of the tent. Michaela and Heath followed.

The artist was a Sacaen named Yuuko. Alice told her what she wanted, and lay on the bed, head down, to let her work. If she was to endure this humiliation, she would make sure that her future husband could not see it until her wedding night. Alice promised Yuuko an extra fifty gold in exchange for absolute secrecy.

An hour later, Alice had her winged fist with XVI engraved on it cutting the shackle in half. Her version of Seventh Heaven was much like Lyn's, save that of a green hawk clutching a lance replaced the horses. She would have preferred a regular hawk, but she was the last one to get it and the artist had run out of the necessary colors.

She would tell Kayleth later where it was, partly to spite him but mainly to make sure anyone who saw her tattoo before marriage dies a grisly death. Lyn would laugh for hours if she found out where it was.

Her right buttock was sore for hours, but she eventually fell asleep.

She woke up as it dawned on her that the artist could have engraved anything there, and she would never know about it.

* * *

Kayleth was amused to learn that Baron Eyre had such a well-furnished summer home nearby, and delighted when he was invited to dinner. It did some good to sober him up to the reality that Alice would be at risk in this war.

But he had pulled her fate out of the jaws of three dragons before. He was fairly certain he could outwit the King. His endgame was perfection.

Whether he could survive the surprises that this revolution probably had in store for him was another matter entirely.

Most of the nobles of the Outer Duchies were assembled. That his manor could host so many said something about Baron Eyre's tax rates, but for the time being, Kayleth was grateful.

"... Barons are the lowest in the hierarchy, or am I mistaken?"

"Eh?" Kayleth stopped observing a noble whose fire in his eyes drew his attention. But nobody was going to assassinate the Prince while Murdock and Vaida stood watch. "After baronets, but they're barely above knighthood anyways."

Cale said no more. Though he was well-traveled, he was still a Sacaen and knew little of Bernese customs. Kayleth didn't care as long as the hundred or so veteran tribesmen of the Satsuma he brought with him performed up to expectations.

Near seven hundred horses were brought as well for rapid transport. Considering the importance of horses in Sacae, it would not be an understatement to say that the chieftain of the Satsuma was betting his future on this endeavor.

Kayleth chuckled as he was reminded of how he had the good fortune to hire one of the finest blades in the realm for a pittance.

"Bare with me. Without these people, there is no revolution. Without these people, the King stays in power. Without these people, Sacae is invaded-"

"I get the point."

"Good. Grab another pint of Guinness and you'll be set for the next half hour."

"… Brother, are you trying to force him into alcoholism?" Alice whispered, scandalized.

"I think you can use one, too," Kayleth offered.

"Tastes too strong," Alice declined.

"You could use some more color in your cheeks. I told you what your job is, right?"

Alice rolled her eyes. Her one job was to look pretty, as Kayleth said in no uncertain terms. This was her first day as an adult in Bernese high society. She was dressed all in white.

They had noticed too late that she looked too much like their mother did, and that she may remind the people at the banquet the odds they would be facing. Mercy to traitors was not a defining value of Duchess Viviane.

"Your Grace," Kayleth bowed to a respectable degree as an elderly man approached.

"Your Grace," Alice curtsied, though she would be damned if she knew who he was.

"Lord Kayleth," the Duke flinched, as if he had just noticed him. Kayleth saw that his long-term interests were rather on the outrageously gigantic prawns that were laid out on the table next to them. "My, my… how long has it been?"

"Come, you must have known that I had joined the Prince," Kayleth grinned. "I believe I was, what, fourteen? I'm surprised you recognize me. Maybe not. My father did commend your eye for details."

"Still had that fire in your eyes. You were assumed dead… or missing for so long…."

"Rumors I spread for my own purpose," Kayleth shrugged. "Can't stop a full Hamorian mercenary company if my father did find me."

Alice coughed softly.

"Oh. Alice, meet Duke Joseph of the House of Vellond. Your Grace, meet Alice."

"Hmph?" the Duke said, turning to eye the girl.

"He's hard of hearing," Kayleth said. "Got one of his ears chopped off you see. The idiot."

"Kayleth!" Alice snapped.

"Don't mind me, young Lady," the Duke said.

"Alice is my sister."

The implications dawned on the Duke. "Ah… forgive me, Your Grace."

"I'm not Duchess yet, Your Grace."

"For God's sake, I swear, if I hear Your Grace back and forth one more time-"

"Erm… forgive me Your Grace, but are you ill?" Alice said, concerned by the Duke's wobbly stance.

"Huh? Oh, well, I'm always like this," the Duke said. "Best go sit somewhere."

"We need his brains, Alice. Escort him and make sure he doesn't die." Alice glared at him, but did as she was told.

Why Alice cared anything about what the Duke felt was beyond him. Kayelth knew that everyone here was marked for death and had zero incentives to betray the Prince.

They'd come too far.

"Where's Alice going?" Lyn asked, having returned with a glass of wine for Kayleth.

"The old man has good eyes for details. He's the campaign's quartermaster," Kayleth took the wine and started scarfing down the meat.

"Stop idling and start encouraging," Sigismund hissed as he stopped by.

"Don't need to. Anyone who's here missed the boat in picking sides," Kayleth continued scanning the room for nobles he might find useful on the battlefield.

If Sigismund wanted to be helpful, he'd have taken a survey and told him how much experience each of these nobles had on the battlefield.

A noble caught his eyes. She had the fire, the fire Kayleth understood so well because the same fire burned within him. Lady Vengeance had a handmaiden here, it seemed. It was surprising she should be so young, but Kayleth liked that she had fear, too.

Fear of death in a young person was a good marker for intelligence. Only the foolish had no fear for death.

"Lyndis, dear-"

"I saw her," Lyn said, slipping through to go collect the young woman.

"Matthew." Kayleth waited a moment. "Matthew!" he snapped.

"Countess Yolande of Ismar. Nineteen years old but plenty of battle experience. She's a Paladin. Second daughter. First one got killed three years ago," Matthew supplied.

"Good. Now shoo!"

Lyn dragged a confused Countess to Kayleth.

"Countess Yolande," Kayleth inclined his head by a smidgen.

"Ah," the girl said, noting Kayleth's cloak. "Baron," she curtsied.

"My sympathies for your sister," Kayleth said. "Such is the price of living under a tyranny."

"Thank you for your interest, my Lord. However, my only concern is to avenge my sister."

"I see… may you find success in your endeavors, Countess. Ah, and please do not be surprised if my second contacts you in the near future."

"Yes, my Lord," the Countess went back to her retainers.

"She's afraid," Urumi sneered, having returned from her assignment.

"She has the bearings of prodigious skills for her age," Kayleth remarked.

"Too much time in the armor," Urumi conceded. "I thought she might be albino if not for the hair, more grey than white. Big enough to be a General I wager."

"Rather unlike your own. Do you have a soul?"

"Har har. Do you want the report or not?"

"Make it fast."

"They are reacting as expected."

Kayleth sighed in relief. He would have hated to waste what was left of Burmann's retainers. A strategist was allowed to spend, to take risks, but never to waste for unlikely plans that were more the fruit of his or her imagination than the result of careful analysis.

"I see. What of the search?"

"We have enough Knights and nobles," Urumi shrugged, her current task being to look out for those with adequate leadership capabilities. "We'll be organized within the week."

"Eh? What're you doing here, Urumi?" Alice asked the half-Sacaen. As far as she knew, Urumi was a completely harmless courtesan in Kayleth's employ.

"My Lady," Urumi curtsied, and sported a wicked grin. "Some of the noblemen have, ah… not brought their spouses along and need, erm… diversions."

Kayleth smirked. Five years ago, that would have been true. However, he had discovered the newly hired sixteen year old courtesan to be exceedingly intelligent, more proof that genetic diversity resulted in superior offspring.

He corrected her flaw: lack of education. Urumi devoured all the knowledge Kayleth needed her to have and more. She had an attention to the tiniest details and perceptiveness to match. Kayleth had trained her, in short, to shore up his own weaknesses, just as Lyn did with her extroversion and emotions. Weakness in commoners was intolerable. Weakness in nobles was a capital crime.

If the revolution was successful, Kayleth intended to reward her. A barony or another inn the likes of Seventh Heaven would be fitting for the services rendered.

_"How the low have risen." _Kayleth thought. It was the favorite story archetype of commoners, coming in second only after 'How the mighty have fallen'.

Kayleth awoke in the middle of Urumi's recounting the debaucheries she supposedly had to go through here. She enjoyed teasing Alice a little too much.

Noticing his glare, Urumi stopped, her head bowed in appropriate contrition.

"Having fun, Your Grace?" Murdock said with a jovial face, completely oblivious as to what had transpired and assuming that Alice was drunk.

Naturally, Kayleth vented his annoyance at the more convenient target, just as Urumi had no doubt suspected would happen as she slipped away dragging Lyn with her.

Lyn was to assess the combat capacity of the captains and sergeants Urumi had chosen.

"Indeed. Wyvern Generals ought to act with more decorum," a middle-aged and blue-hair man said.

Murdock cringed away, recognizing him.

"Are you not going to introduce us, General?" the stranger smiled.

"Your Grace, this is my sponsor, Kayleth of the House of Winterfell. Kayleth, this is Duke Wencen of Hironiden."

"Ah!" Kayleth said as the name registered in his mind and bowed about as much as he did to Murdock. "Your Grace. A pleasure."

"Not a surprise?"

"You always were outspoken in court," Kayleth shrugged. "I knew you would join any organized movement with a fair chance for success in overthrowing our beloved King."

"True," the Duke nodded. "Ah, where are my own manners. I assume this lovely Lady is the next Duchess of Hamor?"

"Your Grace," Alice curtsied, breaking free from Murdock's grasp. "I am told I have you to thank for Fenrir. My heartfelt gratitude to you."

The Duke chuckled, "The zenith of my breeding program, coming full circle."

"Speaking of breeding… yours?" Kayleth nodded at the blue-haired youth next to him.

"My Lord, Your Grace," he bowed, kissing Alice's gloved right hand. "I am Ramirez."

"Yes, mine," the Duke frowned. "Ramirez, you're going to be Duke one day. Try to maintain a sense of dignity."

"Yes, father." Ramirez looked suitably chastised.

"Hmph… I was wondering, Baron, if you could take him in?"

"I could. May I ask why, Your Grace?"

"He might learn something of discipline, and the conduct of proper nobles."

"I am flattered, but might he not learn just as well from, say, you or Lady Brenya, for instance?"

"No. He needs someone older and yet not entirely out of his generation."

"I'm not that old!"

"Brother, you're nearly thirty," Alice sighed.

"Other than that, I have no objections, Your Grace. As long as he knows to follow my orders, or the orders of the flight lead in the absence of my orders, he is welcome."

"He won't disappoint me," the Duke affirmed.

"Well, then. My second will assign you to a tent as soon as she gets back."

"I'm going to pay my respects to His Highness." The Duke walked away, leaving Kayleth with a younger man but not so young he was out of his generation.

Kayleth was reminded of the time Madelyn refused to let him bathe her anymore. That was a dark, dark day. The next thing would be Alice falling in love with some twat and marrying. At least he could solve that problem, by killing every male over the age of thirteen within a five mile radius. That seemed a perfectly reasonable precaution.

"Kayleth."

The tactician turned to face Jaffar. He had returned earlier than expected.

"How was it?"

"The survivors were good actors... your plan will work."

"The ones who weren't such good actors?"

"Killed."

"Very good. Urumi should have new assignments for you."

Jaffar nodded, and walked out of the hall. Kayleth wondered if Zephiel ever saw Jaffar's face. He doubted it. Still, he ran through the calculus of Jaffar's chances of assassinating the King if he took Nino hostage. It would certainly be the easiest way to end the war, but the probabilities of success ran too low.

Still, the opening stages of the rebellion, no, revolution, were meticulously planned. As long as his father and mother didn't scrape together more resistance than he anticipated, Kayleth thought the chances of besieging the palace before the inner Duchies rallied to be quite high.

And when Zephiel took the throne, he'd remember who'd won the throne for him. Kayleth thought that he might not have joined this war just out of concern for Alice.

* * *

If the OCs you have submitted, and gotten feedback from me for, aren't in this chapter they'll appear in the more appropriate chapters. This mainly includes OCs that are candidates for Kayleth's personal troops that are at the lower end of the social totem pole. There was no battle, so I saw little point in introducing them here.

I was going to include the first battle here, but I guess the next chapter'll have to make do.

Let's say a Legion numbers about 200. That's really not that many, I know, but it's more convenient for balancing the numbers right should I ever write an FE6 story. Furthermore, it was really hard back in the days to scrounge up knights. Considering the length it takes to get from place to place in Elibe in canon, population growth in the middle ages, etc, I put Elibe's entire population at around 300,000. Considering at most 3% of the population to be knights, who were the main fighting force back then, that's 9,000 knights. Sounded about right to me. Also, the greater the numbers the more insignificant the forces you have in FE6 or FE7 appear to be, and the more unlikely that they beat armies ten times as large.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to send me templates for OCs, and probably even more time answering questions.

No idea when the next chapter'll be released. Busy for the next 2 weeks, maybe 3.

I would greatly appreciate the person who points me to the right place for the new Code Geass movie, subbed.


	3. First Blood

Unlike sea trade routes, the overland trade routes that connected Bern with the rest of Elibe had a few decisive bottlenecks.

There were other possible routes, of course, but the roads, if there were any, were not as well maintained and unlikely to be patrolled. Furthermore, Bern was home to many mountains favored by the dragons and thus home to many caves that allowed simple bandits to dangerous groups like the Black Fang to exist.

The last of such bottlenecks was Ravenhorn Valley, a relatively wide and fairly accessible pass between two mountains that formed the natural barrier between the most frontier regions of Bern to the Outer Duchies. Travelers were in for quite a bit of climbing, but there were good guides, inns, and rest stops along the way. Beyond the valley, merchants or armies could divert as they pleased depending on what their destinations were.

It was the first line of defense against outside invaders, and had been during the Great Sacaen Migration half a millennium ago. Unfortunately, the Sacaens took the long way around and cut off Bernese supply lines, resulting in the death of ten Legions' worth of troops.

Normally, it would be the Dukes of the Outer Duchies guarding this strategic pass in great conflicts. Now, only those who thought their chances with the King were better than those with their respective Dukes gathered their armies to try to stall until reinforcements from Hamor and later the Inner Duchies.

"Steady," Kayleth ordered with his communications stone.

The thing about this valley was, though, that it made for a terribly predictable place to expect armies to show up. Worse, if an invader were to have intimate knowledge of Bern's defenses, that invader could be hiding in wait with his or her forces on both sides of the two mountains that walled off the pass. If the invader had time and had some creative or merely curious inclination, the invaders could find some boulders and large rocks to dump on passers-by.

Worse still, the invader could have sent an Assassin to relay his plan to some very determined prisoners who, under torture, would 'reveal' that the enemies were amassing outside the valley and vastly understate the numbers of said enemies. They would emphasize, however, that it was impossible to make it in time and that if the invaders made it past the valley, it would spell their destruction, and laugh and mock their torturers until they died or ended back in cuffs. The invader, of course, would have the Assassin create 'accidents' for those prisoners who did not have the mental fortitude to sell their stories convincingly.

If the invader were the obsessive compulsive sort, he or she would have sent agents to replace the workers at the inns, rest stops, and guide companies that dotted the landscape leading up to the valley. If the invader were of a mildly sadistic inclination, he would have had those agents serve food and drinks sprinkled with mild doses of poison that were liable to cause upset stomachs, mild headaches, and exhaustion.

The defenders of Bern would make all haste to the valley, where the enemies lay in wait, and arrive exhausted and ready to make camp when the invader decided that it was time for their judgment.

And that judgment came first in the form of earth.

"Now! All projectiles!" Kayleth hissed, and within moments tons of boulders were rolled off the inclines as seventeen Legions and various auxiliaries revealed themselves.

The Loyalist nobles of the Outer Duchies and their lieutenants realized, as the stones and boulders were flung on their heads, that this was either an avalanche or a very elaborate trap. Of the five Legions that they had managed to drag up the mountains, Kayleth estimated that at least two were annihilated within mere moments.

A general touched by delusions of honor might have been tempted to persuade the enemies to surrender. Such generals were rare breeds, however, seeing as most if not all of them were too busy being dead or hunted by their countries on charges of gross and criminal incompetence.

"All forces, charge!" Kayleth screamed.

The enemies showed no white flags, and Kayleth had every intention to butcher as many as possible until they did.

Yet more stones, hand-axes, javelins, arrows, and spells flung by Kayleth's troops struck the enemies trying to regroup. They had a Codicier with them, Kayleth was certain. He recognized the pre-programmed square formation kick in to the enemy tactician's brains as the only acceptable formation when surrounded by enemies.

If the tactician had read into the Codex of military tactics composed by Hartmut a little less literally and a little more sensibly, he or she would have realized that Hartmut also implied strongly that one should never get surrounded in the first place.

Finally, Kayleth's cavalry and Wyvern Knights reached the enemy lines that were struggling to reform.

Ordinarily, the optimal location for cavalry charges would be the vast plains of Sacae. Mountains had rocks and other impediments to a fast-moving cavalry force that could trip them up.

As long as the majority got to the enemy lines, Kayleth did not care one whit that some of his riders would trip. In fact, tripping made them gather even more momentum before gravity did its work and they crashed into enemy lines. They'd die, but that was no big deal. With such incompetent horsemanship, they deserved to die.

The ones that didn't trip would make the Loyalist nobles think again on why one should surrender before a solid wall of metal-encased cavalry galloping down an incline reached them on all flanks.

In situations where an organized cavalry charge did not meet as organized or better organized armored infantry spear walls and halberds, the rider was expected to kill at least one with the first impact of the lance and have his mount run down at least four. Kayleth's cavalry met no organized resistance.

In fact, Kayleth's Wyvern Knights had dumped their complements of boiling water mixed with salt or in cases of heavier resistance boiling oil on the enemies a few moments before Kayleth's cavalry arrived.

The middle of the column, where Kayleth knew the nobles were, was mostly untouched. As expected, they raised the white flag.

"Mercy to the seriously injured, gather up the prisoners," Kayleth said into the communications stone reserved for Vaida, who had led the charge. "Burn the corpses. Capture supplies and horses."

Kayleth was somewhat surprised that the Prince did not display horror at the one-sided massacre that had just occurred, but figured that royals were made of sterner stuff.

"I'd guess about four Legions dead, and one taken alive. About thirty of our own horsemen and four Wyvern Knights fell," Sigismund said. "Well done, Kayleth. Left the supplies at the back nearly intact."

"I'll see to releasing our agents, if they survived," Urumi strode towards the battlefield.

"Well, I'll be damned. We hardly needed to hold so many of our troops back in reserve," Murdock said. "I'll get to moving the Legions."

"Congratulations on your victory, my Lord, Your Highness," Brenya murmured.

"Ah, yes… well done, Baron," Zephiel said. "I will go address the troops on their victory."

"… What's wrong, Lyndis?" Kayleth asked, seeing that she was close to vomiting.

"I realize… that I've never seen war until today."

Kayleth regretted that. He had not foreseen what he should have. A person of a strongly caring psychological archetype, like Lyn, would not be immune to the sight of such horrors. Kayleth had thought she must have gotten used to it but never before had she seen war as it was meant to be fought on any significant scale.

On his part, this was the opening encounter that he had envisioned and planned for nearly a decade. It was satisfying to both his academic curiosity and professional pride to see what happened when his plans were implemented.

As they had for many centuries, the flora of Ravenhorn Valley sucked greedily at the lifeblood of the fallen.

* * *

The Prince's army set up camp at the foot of the mountains.

A battlefield made for a very unsanitary place to camp, and Kayleth was not interested in losing troops to it when good sanitation could easily be enforced.

The soldiers could rest, but the tactician had work to do.

He let Alice accompany him; she was very cross at him for not allowing her to fly today. It was a natural impulse for those of his line to take on significant roles. Kayleth knew it because that impulse was especially keen in him.

The siren call to ever greater power and wealth beat so strongly for him that he was able to beat his eldest brother's rage, his eldest sister's perceptiveness, and his other younger sister's guile. He had learned something of all of their methods. It was only through his tutor and the experience of failure in letting ambition blind him to reality that Kayleth was able to realize that his ambitions were the calls of a siren. Kayleth chuckled as he remembered the eons-old question 'What do sirens sing?' He would answer that it depended on the audience.

In a Baron or even a Count, that ambition couldn't do much harm. In a Duke, however, it was an unacceptable failing. He would be an efficient ruler, yes, but he'd also be a tyrant, betraying the centuries of freedom his Duchy was founded upon.

The Great Civil War over the matter of slavery was started, after all, when the Duke of Hamor decreed that the air of Hamor was so pure and free that any slave who breathed that air was instantly freed. That wasn't the actual reason, of course, but such was the emphasis on individual libertas in Hamor that the slave owners of the Inner Duchies believed it.

That was why Alice was going to be Duchess; her ambition was to be a good Duchess, and little in the way of personal ambitions. His eldest sister would have been the best candidate, but she was already dead, killed by his eldest brother who suspected that she had something to do with the death of the younger sister. His eldest brother had naturally been executed for parricide.

All the training and education that goes in raising a Duke's children, worth the training and education for any ten thousand commoners, squandered in a single misunderstanding and hot temper. His own suffering Kayleth did not care about anymore. His suffering was good; it made him strong, competent, and paranoid, qualities that helped save Elibe from a second Scouring. But the Duke would die for such a flagrant waste of resources as well as causing indirectly the deaths of three of his siblings. Alice might forgive him, but that was because she remembered nothing of her other siblings.

Kayleth, on the other hand, was trained and conditioned to remember everything.

Thus it fell to Kayleth to install the correct heir to the Duchy, right the wrongs of his parents, and provide the love and support of four siblings to Alice. Perhaps it was out of guilt, but Kayleth could live with that.

"Where are we going?" Murdock asked, perhaps feeling uncomfortable at the silence.

"To free the bait for this trap," Urumi answered.

"She means to free the agents who convinced the Loyalist nobles of the Outer Duchies that they should move to secure the pass before the Prince's arrival," Alice said.

"Like I said," Urumi muttered.

"Why didn't you free them earlier?!"

"Because, Murdock, those nobles won't take kindly to being fooled by commoners. When this war is over, they might take revenge on those agents," Kayleth said, as though talking to an unruly child. "I'd rather they think them dead."

"Here we are," Matthew said, pointing with his torch.

The cages are wooden, Matthew," Kayleth snapped. Still, Chen and Rika held their lamps perilously close to the cages, too. It was so very difficult to find underlings with some common sense.

"Finally… someone to free us?" a mangled voice croaked.

"Only two?" Alice frowned. "They look like they need medical attention, now."

"I made sure they lived. Father," Kayleth signaled.

Hale cast his restorative magic, making the prisoners look a little livelier and less like mutilated carcasses of meat.

"Now, can you hear me? Can you pay attention?" Kayleth asked.

"Yes," the relative darker-skinned of the two replied. Alice realized that the man was not pure Bernese.

"Good, because the next minute will decide whether or not you live."

"My Lord, we recovered letters from Lord Burmann vouching for their-"

"Yes, because letters can't be stolen, Urumi," Kayleth rolled his eyes. "Now, listen closely, plebeian. You say you're followers of Burmann. If so, you must know this phrase. If not, I am going to pour oil on this cart and light up a match for that God-awful tobacco pipe my servant Matthew enjoys."

"I'm not a servant!" Matthew protested.

Kayleth raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm not yours!" the spy pointed out.

"Did you understand that?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. Dulce et decorum."

"Est pro patria mori."

"You could work on your pronunciation, but I have very low expectations of commoners," Kayleth shrugged as he opened the cage. "Of your conduct in this operation, well done. Of your survival, commendations. His Highness the Prince is very pleased, and has informed me that you two should be knighted. Presently, he's busy winning over the incompetents you fooled to his cause, so you won't be graced by his presence. Therefore, kneel."

"Erm… I don't know the words," the other man said.

"It's alright. As I said, I expect precious little of plebs. Just kneel."

They did, and silence reigned the night for half a minute.

"Lady Alice," Urumi whispered. "You're the highest ranking of the nobility present."

"Huh? Oh. Uh…" Alice floundered, looking for her sword and trying very hard to remember the words.

"Virtus tentamine gaudet," Kayleth teased. "Vita summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam."

"I remember," Alice snapped, drawing her sword. The two prisoners flinched at her mood. "What?!" Alice said, waving her sword and venting her embarrassment at the two.

"Your Grace, I'd rather you not kill the two… if I recall, knighting does not involve accidental or purposeful decapitation," Murdock said.

Alice turned an even darker shade of red.

"Sometimes I have trouble believing you're siblings," Matthew chuckled. "Kayleth almost never resorts to violence when he's embarrassed."

"Now, now, let's stop there," Urumi stepped in diplomatically, before grinning. "These poor souls really don't look like they could afford any more scars."

Alice turned away to focus solely on the two kneeled before her. "What are your names?"

"I am Asteion, Your Grace," the part Nabatan said.

"I'm called Cuam," the other said.

"For the good of this Realm and in the Light of our God, you have gone above and beyond the call of duty. That service will not be unnoticed. That valorous deed will not go unrewarded. By the authority granted me by the blood in my veins, I dub thee Knights of the Realm and Defenders of the Faith with all the privileges, and responsibilities, that accompany them. Please, open your mouth."

Alice tapped the two on both shoulders with her sword, and as befitting Hamorian tradition, slit her hand and squeezed some droplets of blood into the open mouths, startling them. Kayleth winced, as it was undoubtedly his and the others' teasing that Alice went so far to observe proper protocol. Physical harm to Alice compulsively hurt him in disproportionate magnitude. "Arise, Sir Asteion, Sir Cuam."

Hale quickly healed Alice's hand, flinching from Kayleth's smoldering glare. In the seven years he had served the short-tempered Baron, he knew there was nothing that hurt him more than his sister's getting even a scratch. Rumor had it that the last time his sister had a serious illness, he killed four apothecaries who failed to do anything for her. As taken aback and shocked as he was by her slitting her hand, his employer expected him to heal her promptly. He had no doubt that the tactician was considering burning him alive in that cage instead.

He'd remind him that it wasn't his fault his Duchy had such barbaric rituals, but then that consideration would turn into resolve. No one survived Kayleth on a warpath. Hale considered it miraculous that nearly two hundred of the thousand men that had entered battle against Kayleth earlier this day lived.

* * *

Most of the nobles who had been captured were turned. Mainly because they had little choice in the matter, but still, it meant that the army was good to march for a while yet before encountering hostiles.

The ones who were not turned were pushed into the urinals of the camp before they were buried alive. It was bad manners not to cover the urinals with earth when the army leaves, and someone had to answer for the lives of eight hundred soldiers.

Zephiel and his army were holed up in the great citadel of Lilybaeum. While Kayleth would have been more comfortable with another day's march, the army needed supplies. Eighteen Legions with auxiliaries tended to eat a lot.

That was one of the reasons why the war needed to be concluded as soon as possible. Society could not long afford thousands of men and women in their prime eating more than usual while doing nothing to produce goods and services.

"A copper for your thoughts?"

Kayleth, Alice, Murdock, and Lyn were on one of the verandas overlooking the central courtyard. Two of Kayleth's Paladins, Mihail and Corbulo, were with them, Kayleth being ever wary of assassination attempts. There was a ball inside, trying to reconcile the recently turned nobles with their rebellious from the start colleagues.

They were in the Great Hall originally, but Kayleth got tired of older nobles seeking him out. They were under the impression that while Alice would be the titular Duchess, he'd be the true power in Hamor if the revolution was successful.

Which was very astute of them, and Kayleth enjoyed having his ass kissed as much as the next noble, but he needed to have people believe that his sister be the true power in Hamor.

Alice would be loved by her subjects, and those who did not love her enough to follow her would do so anyway out of the utter terror in not knowing the things he would do to them if they disobeyed his sister. Those who were so foolish as to not fear him would love her enough to follow her. That was the plan.

"Milady Lyndis," Kayleth nodded. "Hardly. Need I remind you that it is my copper you'd be spending for my thoughts?"

Murdock snorted into his mead, splashing the honeyed drink in his face.

"I was thinking, Lyn, that we need to finish this war as soon as possible."

"Of course. Isn't that the ideal war? A short and victorious one?" Lyn said.

"True. See? You have learned something of being a noble after all. My line of thinking was more that I miss Pearl terribly. It gnaws at my mind when I sleep."

"Who's this Pearl?" Murdock asked.

Lyn opened her locket to show him.

"I'm glad she hasn't inherited her looks from Kayleth," Murdock chuckled.

"Complete opposite in personality, too, but she takes after my mother doesn't she?"

Murdock winced at the memory of his last encounter with the Duchess Viviane.

"Wrong hair color, and eyes too. But I see what you mean. Any magic?"

"Not that we know of."

"Shame... I could use a daughter of yours who can set fire to your library."

"If there's a fire in my library, I'll be certain to accuse you first."

"Of magic?" Murdock snorted.

"Yes, and that all those years of pretending not to have magic were just theatrics."

In Kayleth's Duchy, people with sufficient magical potential were sent to special schools at the age of eight to control their powers. To not report children with magical talent was a capital crime. An angry child could do little more than stick a fork in his sibling's hand. An angry child with magic could burn down the village. In that respect, a child with magical potential was treated with all the respect mankind gave wolves and feral wyverns: tamed or killed. It didn't particularly matter which.

"Why don't either of us have magic, Kayleth?" Alice asked.

Murdock was about to give the truthful answer when Kayleth glared, and quickly replied that these things often skipped a generation.

Alice could not find out about her other siblings. The knowledge might very well break her. For all her avowed nobility, dignity, and poise, Alice's soul was a very optimistic and fundamentally good soul. Kayleth had no desire to change that.

Truly ignorance was bliss.

"My Lord Kayleth. Marchioness Caelin. General Murdock," a towering man partially clad in armor said, bowing as he walked into the veranda.

"Your Grace," Kayleth added, pointing at Alice, and refusing to bow more than hair's breadth.

"Ah. You must be the Duchess. My apologies," the man's size was enough for the guards to register him as a possible threat should he turn violent. He stood a head and a shoulder taller than Alice, and Alice was quite tall for a woman, even for a Hamorian woman. He was also at least thrice as wide, or so Kayleth thought.

"I'm afraid you have the better of me, Lord…?" Kayleth prompted.

"Oh, where are my manners. I am Neturus, Baron Kaon."

"Welcome, Baron. I've heard of you from Sigismund."

"The chancellor speaks of me? Good things I hope."

"Good things," Kayleth nodded. He had extensively studied the notables of the Prince's supporters, and made note of the ones he thought he may find useful. Neturus was involved in many a mining network essential to the war economy. Though Kayleth despised subsistence models in economies, that Neturus had joined the Prince was an advantage in the production of armor.

Sigismund had met him before, and told Kayleth what made him tick. Neturus was a soul that operated at the same wavelengths as Kayleth's did. It was so deliciously easy to manipulate such men.

"Indeed, the chancellor and I were talking about spoils of war the other day. Your name came up twice in the conversation."

"I would imagine so," Neturus took to the bait as eagerly as Kayleth had expected. "The decisiveness of that victory last week. Ha… glorious, stunning, masterful! I hear the Duchess challenged and defeated a dozen Paladins by herself!"

"Erm… she didn't join the battle, actually," Kayleth pointed out, knowing how it would fluster him.

"Indeed. That would be General Vaida," Murdock grunted.

And flustered he was, but he had the grace to recover quickly. "Oh? Well, I'm sure she inspired our troops to do much more with her gallant and regal presence. It must be dazzling to have a genius of an older brother, Your Grace. I'm certain you'll do him proud next time, as expected of your revered lineage."

Even the ever kind and well-disposed Lyn rolled her eyes at the obvious ploy of the Baron. Alice, being under scrutiny, managed to refrain from such an obvious display and instead opted to look embarrassed and shy, as befitting of the normal image one had of young Duchesses. Kayleth had long practiced the smile of a pleased noble and was using that to mask his actual enjoyment, which would result in a smirk.

"Baron Neturus… keeping our chief tactician entertained, I see."

Kayleth was annoyed that three outsiders had appeared, but at least he had met two of them before. He knew enough of them to know that they joined the Prince's cause at the last minute. The third, a brown haired man, looked to be their son. He couldn't be sure, of course, and thus refrained from addressing that problem.

He was chief tactician, the stratego of this fledgling army. Kayleth could not afford to look ignorant to more than two mouths that could corroborate each other's story.

"Count Hannover. Countess. It has been too long."

"Indeed! You were hardly sixteen when we first met you!" the Countess said.

"Please, I'd rather not be reminded of my childhood," Kayleth jested. "I'm a father now."

"Congratulations! I'm sure they take after your dashing self," the Countess continued.

"They're all daughters, actually."

"Still, how could your good ancestry fail to show in them, hmm?" the Count asked.

"Speaking of ancestry, my Lord..."

"Ah! Where are my manners?! This is Alan, our son!"

"Pleasure," Kayleth nodded.

"My Lord," the youth bowed.

"Was he the one playing in the courtyard?"

"I believe so," the Countess shrugged.

"Hmph. You were eleven, I believe."

"I'm sure I was."

"Mmm… well, I ought to introduce my wife, Marchioness Lyndis, and sister, Alice, soon-to-be Duchess Hamor," Kayleth tilted his head at both.

"My, my, how you take after your mother!" the Countess beamed.

Kayleth understood, then, why it was that all of the youth were going after Alice and why, to his great chagrin, everyone above a certain age went after him. They had heard that Alice would be inheriting the Duchy, but they interpreted that as Kayleth ruling from behind the scenes. While not entirely true, Alice did not have the temperament to defy him in all but the most private of matters.

The Duchy of Hamor, while not particularly populous, was the richest and most militant Duchy in Bern. It made sense that the older would be concerned with being in his good graces, especially if the revolution succeeded when Kayleth would be in a position to influence very many things. The older would then badger the younger into presenting themselves to Alice, either as friends or marriageable acquaintances. They didn't know they'd have to survive his judgment first, of course, but that could be remedied simply enough.

"_These clever, clever people,"_ Kayleth snorted, thinking to himself.

The Countess was trying very hard to ingratiate her son to Alice.

"Anyways," the Count said, having the sense to detect the flare of annoyance in Kayleth's features that he had left deliberately unmasked, "our son was saying how much he admired your example and it would be a great boon to me for you to accept him into the sixteenth Legion."

What he meant was that he wanted to get the greatest amount of glory possible by association.

Kayleth scanned Alan. He was trying very hard to please his parents. He was not as good an actor as he was a son. Still, Kayleth was proficient at sniffing out talent.

The man had the talent to keep up with all but the best of his own Legion.

"Why not?" Kayleth shrugged. "Have him report to my second, who should be in the command tent."

This brought on a new tide of flattery from the gaggle of nobles that seemed to have found him. Kayleth had escaped to a veranda to avoid this sort of attention. He had no time for their drabbles, though he would be lying if he said he did not enjoy flattery. It was just that continued contact with many humans that he did not particularly know or like was very draining to him.

The tactician eventually insisted that he get some space to discuss some things with General Vaida. The tide of admirers vanished in a few seconds, mumbling apologies.

The outsiders finally departed, giving Kayleth a moment's respite. Interaction with strangers was a serious drain on Kayleth's energy.

"Heath," Kayleth nodded as the Wyvern Knight joined them. "No duties?"

"My main job is to be her bodyguard," Heath shrugged, tilting his head at Alice.

"That's right," Kayleth approved. "You will be a porcupine before a single arrow grazes Alice's hair."

"With the way he's been moving, he very well might. He's gotten soft. I expected you to keep him on his toes, tactician."

"General," Kayleth nodded at Vaida. He didn't expect he'd be talking to her that night. "It's not my fault he wasn't instructed on the basics of aerial combat by his previous instructor."

"He never was a good listener, and there's only so much you can do with the whip," Vaida shrugged.

"Oi oi… when did this become 'bash Heath' day?" the Knight said. "I'll have you know my records on the battlefield the other day were impeccable."

"Yes, and you would do well to console yourself of your records against dead, dying, terrified, and burning soldiers who couldn't even organize themselves into a line," Vaida giggled, a distinctly odd sound considering what kind of a creature Vaida was. In the same battle, Vaida had charged into the middle of the formation cordoning the enemy nobles and killed four Paladins, two Wyvern Lords, and two nobles before they raised the white flag. She ended the life of another Baron out of spite. It was small wonder the rest of the nobles switched sides so eagerly.

"Wait a minute… General Vaida, if you and Murdock are here, who's guarding the Prince?"

"Ah crap!" Murdock dashed back into the hall in search of his charge.

"… Oops. Must be the alcohol," Vaida followed Murdock.

Kayleth glared at Heath until he took the hint and followed Vaida.

"General Brenya's probably with him," Alice said, sipping her tea.

"Yes," Kayleth noted. "Her infatuation with the Prince is mildly troubling."

The tea drenched Alice's face as she coughed and sputtered. Mihail promptly handed her a handkerchief, which Kayleth knew was part sympathy and part a guarantee for his bonus this month.

"Thanks Mihail. Well, good for them. She certainly seems capable of becoming Queen," Alice said, handing the drenched handkerchief back.

"Capable? Perhaps. Fitting? I think not."

"Why not? She's well-educated, intelligent, of the right social status-"

"She's on the wrong side of the border. While this revolution gives us an opportunity to purge some of the unworthy in our ranks, Bern needs two things: a stable border and internal unity to result from this civil war. To that end, the Prince must marry a southern Lady or an Etrurian or a Lycian. Personally, I think Lilina would be a valid choice."

"She's nine years old!" Lyn snapped.

"Fourteen and marriageable in five years. I fail to see where your objection comes from."

"What about her choice?"

"Pfft. I told you before, Alice, that being a noble meant that you are public property. There are very few choices involved in the matter of state interests. If it consoles you, the Prince has even less in the manner of choice involved in his decision."

"What of the Princess?"

"Irrelevant. If the Prince marries an outsider, she'll marry a southern Lord, though I shudder to think of one of the most backward genetic imbeciles marrying a Princess of our great nation."

"What's wrong with southerners?" Lyn asked, curious about the sentiments behind Kayleth's sometimes voiced opinions about the south.

"Too soft… too incestuous… too religious… too ignorant… did I mention incestuous?"

Alice snorted. "Northerners believe southerners, at least the southern Lords, to be uneducated, superstitious, too rich for their own good, and incestuous."

"All of it true. No wonder they lost the Slave War. No wonder they're as psychotically retarded and superstitious as they are. No wonder they're so weak. A bunch of freeloading scum feeding on northern taxes and blood. At least the Etrurian delinquents aren't as criminally retarded. They'd be poor sport in our wars otherwise. Sometimes, I wonder why we didn't just massacre all of them at the end of the Slave War. It's a shame. They contribute, literally, almost nothing to Bern."

"Then what prevents you from saying the same of the royal family?"

"Your Highness," everyone in the vicinity but Lyn bowed.

Nino and Brenya were accompanying him. Kayleth was glad that the Prince was in good hands.

"Was that a rhetorical question, Your Highness?"

"Let's say it was not."

"Very well… let us posit, for the sake of this argument, that civilization is the ultimate goal of a state. The question, then, is what constitutes civilization?"

"Culture?" Lyn said.

"Tradition coupled with progress," Alice said.

"That was a question for the Prince but no and no. It means a society based on the opinions of informed people. It means a legislative body and independent courts of justice that nurture freedom and culture while maintaining the power to defend it. However, this is Elibe, and we do not have the resources to educate many people. In such a condition, many of the Kings of Bern have done right by us, and some have even surpassed even our wildest expectations, such as our third, fourth, sixteenth, twenty sixth, and thirty second Kings, who may as well have been demigods.

"Kingship is not necessarily tyranny. Indeed, an enlightened King is the equal of any thousand intelligent senators and certainly better than a hundred thousand of the uneducated masses. It is when the King takes more power than he ought to for unreasonable or unknown ends that the seeds of tyranny are sown. It is when the King uses the people for unreasonably selfish purposes, with no consideration as to the benefit to the people, when the cost of monarchy outweighs the benefits of it, that the King becomes tyrant. It is when the advantages of monarchy including decisiveness, unified vision, and informed decision become inversed that the people have the right to replace the King.

"The overall societal benefit is more important than any one man, even should he be King. This is true of taxation, military duty, gentrification, and the other generic duties to society. The people live to serve the King. The King has a duty to do the same for his people. The current King of Bern is a creature warped by petty jealousies, gross incompetence not seen since our thirty first King, and various other faults. That is why this is a revolution, Your Highness, not a rebellion."

"Your sister becoming a Wyvern Knight is tradition?" Zephiel raised an eyebrow.

"No. It's freedom. And Hamorians never commit the crime of raising weak children. More importantly, Hamorians execute weak nobles on a regular basis when they turn eighteen," Kayleth said, and the Prince could not tell whether he was joking.

He was, of course, being deadly serious.

With so little resources to spend on education, and since most of those resources went to nobles, it was a sin for a noble to be incompetent.

Kayleth should have been executed for his incompetence in letting his ambition cloud his vision, but he found redemption in defeating Nergal and thus saving Elibe.

That was the primary debt Kayleth owed Lyn. Saving his life when he cared nothing for it was a minor debt. The chance for redemption, however, was one he could not hope to repay in his lifetime.

"Alice, General Brenya, please escort the Prince back to the ball. Nino, call Chen and Lady Jill to replace you. You are then dismissed. Mihail, call Malvator and Senel to replace you in watching Alice. You are then dismissed."

"Are you sure?" Mihail frowned.

"Yes. I need madmen who would kill for Alice at the slightest provocation. It's more crowded in there. Extra vigilance may be necessary. Tell them to kill if anyone looks at her funny."

"Kayleth!" Alice snapped.

"Oh, this is also free will," Kayleth defended himself.

"Ah, I meant leaving you and Lady Lyndis with one guard," Mihail amended.

Kayleth raised an eyebrow. "Does Lyn look the type to need more than one guard? Come the four corners of Elibe and she'll defy them. Come a dragon and she'll kill it. She's the only guard I need. Dismissed."

* * *

In his seat at Winterfell, the forty eighth Duke of Hamor frowned.

Viviane detected her husband's anxiety, mixed with some other emotions.

"What is it?" Viviane said, taking the letter out of his hands.

"This… Red Baron that leads the Prince's army-"

"There is no doubt," Viviane said. "It can't be anyone other than he."

"The trail went cold at Caelin," Calgar growled. "Nestor!"

"Yes, Your Grace," the aged butler said.

"It seems that my own son is at the head of the Prince's armies… inform the director of our intelligence services that he is to execute the agents who looked into his disappearance or draft them into the Forlorn Hope squads. The charges are criminal and gross incompetence, of course. Send word to the nobles in my Duchy that they are not to be swayed by empty promises of a better future and that my retribution for those who flock to my son's side will be terrible."

"Thy will be done," the butler left.

"But Kayleth… we thought him dead," Viviane murmured.

"It seems we should have put more faith in the remnants of the Black Fang… and I think it likely, then, that he took Alice as well."

"Alice and Kayleth, alive!" Viviane shouted in joy.

"Indeed. Kayleth is not so weak that he would have let Alice come to harm. Praise be to our ancestors," Calgar sighed, visibly relieved.

"But… they've been fooled into taking the Prince's side. What do we do?" Viviane frowned, noting the dilemma they were in.

"Destroy the rebels, capture them, and insist to the King that they were held against their will, of course… and Kayleth will become the Duke he was born to be."

* * *

The first one is "It is good/just to die for one's country", the second one is roughly "Strength rejoices in the challenge," and the third is "Life is too short for us to entertain far-off (into the future) hopes."

I thought Latin would be a good root language for the common tongue of Elibe. Obviously only the nobility and the academics would ever feel the need to learn them, the former because it is expected and the latter because it is useful.

Yes. As someone pointed out, the battle does have roots to the pseudo-history, Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

Now I'm really busy for a couple of weeks.


	4. Wyvern Knights of Bern

Kayleth watched as the troops were directed forward.

Most of the Legion was at the vanguard, but the fliers and Lyn were with him.

Mobility was one of the most important factors of warfare. That was why the dragons despite their paltry numbers gave humanity so much trouble during the Scouring. That was why the pirates of the Western Isles escaped the clutches of the Home Fleet. That was why the Sacaens were barely stopped at Winterfell during the Great Migration.

The Prince's army had none of those advantages, though the horses Cale had generously loaned helped. So too did most of the Wyvern Knights of Bern joining the Prince after news of the first battle reached them. Nearly five hundred Wyvern Knights from all over the country had joined them, leaving few for the Loyalist forces.

Even so, Kayleth couldn't afford a forced march, either, because that was something one only did close to one's destination, and they were so very, very far away from their ultimate destination.

Bulls and horses were appropriated from villages they had passed to drag the wagons. Sigismund kept track of these 'loans' though Kayleth doubted the peasants would see it that way. It was clear enough that they didn't have much choice in the matter. If the war dragged on too long, these loans might very well be the death of these villagers.

Such was the lot of the weak in Elibe.

"Damned ground pounders," Vaida growled. "You would think they can march for a few hours without rest but no. Need to drink, eat, relieve themselves, take naps, visit brothels, eat some more, freeload some more, I wonder how they have time to fight with such a tight schedule. You there, maggot! Get back in line!"

The soldier being yelled at cowered, getting back into marching pace beside her comrades.

"Urumi, sitrep on the march," Kayleth ordered.

"Ten of our Legions have crossed the river. General Murdock reports that the army will fall two miles short of the rendezvous point by sunset. No casualties. Seventeen enemy scouts neutralized. General Brenya reports that no armies are pursuing."

It was a difficult decision to leave enemy strongholds behind. In Elibean wars, success depended on the amount of land taken. Kayleth had decided, however, that they had no time to besiege every castle on the way. In this manner, the civil war would take years. He decided to bypass every enemy stronghold on the way, leave behind troops to cut off supply lines, and have those troops regroup with the main group when enough supplies had been pilfered.

There were strongholds that they would have to assault, of course, those that were too dangerous to leave behind based on numbers and location. One such stronghold was coming up in two days and a citadel had to be taken about a week out from that.

The citadel, Kayleth had a plan for. The continent of Elibe was in for a surprise. This maneuver would change mobile warfare as it was.

The stronghold, he had not. It was apparently a recent construction. Kayleth had no idea what it even looked like. He did not have the blueprints for its construction. No one else knew a thing, either, even the Baron whose realm the stronghold was constructed in. That Baron's head was put on a pike and his body left to the animals on charges of gross negligence. Even Jaffar returned empty-headed, but he could hardly punish his best agent in subterfuge. Certainly he could figure something out if it was of a standardized template, but still, there was no way to not take many casualties. At least a Legion would be expended in taking the stronghold.

Why other people were so ill-prepared for war, he had no idea. It was becoming troublesome, having to manage grand strategy as well as Legion-level tactics.

Kayleth looked around for Murdock. He forgot that he was at the vanguard. It was a shame there was no one around he could vent his anger at easily. Vaida was liable to bite his head off.

"Master, General Murdock is requesting your immediate presence at the vanguard," Urumi reported.

"Enemy troops?"

"No. He says they have come across two villages, quite close to each other. They have been pillaged and burned, my Lord. There are signs of a battle."

"Scorched earth tactics. Standard protocols. So they're not all scared witless… the commander of that stronghold is a competent," Vaida grimaced.

"Afraid, General?" Kayleth smirked.

"I don't want to hear that from someone who has never charged fortified archer lines."

"I am not surprised you survived one. How were the casualty rates?"

"What do you think? Luckily a fool of a subordinate had come in from the skylines and scattered the third and fourth lines. Safest angle for a flier, if he can break off in time that is."

"Did he survive?"

Vaida raised an eyebrow.

"Well, then. No point in staying here. General, Lyn, no one gets to the Prince. Urumi, stay and whip the rear guard into a faster pace."

"Are you sure?" Lyn said, preferring the company of her family.

"I doubt there's anything dangerous left in burning villages. I'll be back. Kill anyone who gets within ten feet of the Prince without proper clearance."

Lyn was not going to take such a drastic measure, but she understood the request. Alice was a little miffed that she wouldn't get to stay with the Prince.

* * *

Kayleth found Murdock's command wagon easily enough. It was the biggest one in the vanguard, made to accommodate his bulk.

"What is it now, peasant?" Kayleth grumbled as he entered the tent.

A boy was tied up and lying on the floor, barely conscious. He was bleeding. It was curious that he was richly dressed, but those clothes were out of fashion before Kayleth's great grandfather had been born.

"The sole survivor of the two villages," Murdock reported. "Some troops have been identified as part of the Etrurian Magic Academy's expeditionary forces. They were found by the Loyalists and gave a good account of themselves."

"He needs medical attention, now!" Alice said, startled by the dying boy. She was stayed by Kayleth's hand.

"His condition seems to be getting better… he was worse off when I contacted you," Murdock continued. "Our magi are of the opinion that it is caused by some sort of internal mutation."

"Hmm… boy, can you speak? Do you understand me?" Kayleth asked, leaning over the boy. He was hardly fourteen years old, with blue hair and blue eyes.

The boy nodded once, groaning in pain.

"Who are your parents? If they are dead, nod once. Are you Bernese? If you are, nod once. Are all of your relatives dead?"

The boy answered in the affirmative to all questions. There was a slight hesitation to his response, though. Kayleth chalked it up to shock.

"Boy… the state you are in is representative of the state of man in Elibe: poor, in pain, and suffering. To summarize, most of life is shit, and then you die," Kayleth began. "I could have you brought back to life. But what would it mean other than poverty and suffering? What would you do without parents that would care for you unconditionally?"

"Please…" the boy gasped. "It hurts."

"Life hurts," Kayleth snapped. "That is the reality of the continent known as Elibe. Now, boy… I realize that you cannot possibly be old enough to make an informed decision. However, a decision you must make, for that is the lot handed to you by this world. Die, and cease the pain of life, or live, and embrace the pain of life in servitude to me. What say you?"

There was a pregnant silence as the boy tried to make sense of what Kayleth had said.

"Kayleth, we can't let a little boy die!" Alice insisted.

"He can make a choice. By the looks of him, he has none to look after him. Do you know how miserable life is at the average orphanage?" Kayleth said. "You've talked to Lucius and Serra before, haven't you? At least in my service, he'll have room and board., a proper education, and a chance to make something of yourself."

"Yes," the boy managed to cough out. "I accept."

"Hmph. Alice, go get Nino. Now boy… tell me your name."

"Al."

"I am Kayleth, a Baron of Caelin, Lycia, originally of the House of Winterfell. By the blood that runs through my veins, I swear that I will not let your loyalty go unrewarded, nor your diligence unnoticed, nor your service unappreciated, nor your treachery unpunished. I will feed you, shelter you, and train you, in return for your services in whatever capacity I see fit and to the best of your abilities in mind, body, and spirit. This is our contract, Al. Do you accept?"

"Yes."

"Nino."

"This will hurt," Nino grimaced. How the boy was hanging on to his life, she had no idea.

"Life is painful. Most things worthwhile require of you pain. That is my first lesson for you."

* * *

Kayleth watched the enemy stronghold, his spying glass affording him vision outside the range of the ballistae lined up on the ramparts and the towers.

"Four turrets with four ballistae each. Thirty-odd ballistae on the ramparts. This… is a deathtrap," Vaida muttered.

"We need to arrive by the river within six days, at all costs. My invasion plan depends on it."

"Review your plan. I'm not sending men to get cut down by giant arrows," Vaida snarled, and Umbriel reflected the mood of his mistress.

"We'll need to start the attack by night. Take out their ballistae and drop off troops by air."

"They have torch emplacements, my Lord," Brenya noted, pointing at the large pillars of flammable wood.

"But we can't leave it. Their ballistae likely have the range to attack our convoy if we bypass them. Their troops will harass our rearguard and slow us down to a crawl unless we abandon a Legion," Murdock argued.

"We should really execute the Baron in charge of this region," Kayleth added, causing said Baron to flinch and edge towards the periphery of the crowd of nobles surrounding the Prince. "It's criminal negligence not to know the layout of a fort in his own Elimine damned domain."

"If I might make a suggestion?"

Kayleth turned around to see a young noble emerge. "You may, Lord…?"

"Narshen, of Tuscany," the man bowed. "Your Highness. Your Grace. Lords and Ladies. Generals."

"Suggestion part, now," Kayleth snapped. Courtly niceties were all well and good but not before victory.

"While those defenses are formidable, they are meant to be used against armies."

"If I wanted to have the obvious pointed out to me, Lord, I need only buy a Nabatan parrot," Murdock rolled his eyes.

Narshen took umbrage at that, but he was hardly going to make a fool of himself in front of his future King. "No, you don't understand. One man can breach those defenses from above, and distract the guards while the main force arrives later."

"And who would that one man, or woman, be?" Kayleth considered the merits of drawing lots, but reconsidered. There was a distinctly remote chance that Alice could get the short end of the stick. "Are you volunteering?"

"Ah, my Lord flatters me, but I'm not so skilled a warrior to be much of a distraction," Narshen said.

"Hmm… why don't I-"

"No. I will not risk you on a suicide run General Vaida," Kayleth said. "Any volunteers among you for a suicide mission?!"

The assembled Knights and nobles were eerily quiet.

"I'll go," Alice said, disgusted by the lack of volunteers willing to die for the cause. "I'm the best armored among the fliers. I'll survive longer than most."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so. Now be quiet, I'm trying to think of a real plan," the tactician snapped.

* * *

Five hours later, Kayleth had no plans.

A conventional siege took too much time and resources that he could ill afford to lose. As far as he could see, there was no particular weakness in the defenses. Even if he were to have all Wyvern Knights stay above ballistae range and simply rain down boiling water and stones, a great deal would miss and it was impossible to sustain such an operation for any effective amount of time. People got tired. So did wyverns. When they got tired, they'd lose altitude, and when they lost altitude, the ballistae would skewer them. Wyverns, as any idiot would know, were worth a lot of gold.

They were fed meat when even humans went without it. They were valued far more than humans were.

There was a sudden commotion, and people pointed at a lone Wyvern Knight soaring into the sky.

Kayleth gaped at the figure flying away from him in horror. Everything around him turned black, and his mind was cleaned white. His heart clenched around itself, closing off blood. His nose forgot how to breathe. His legs crumpled on themselves. His stomach twisted around from the inside. He should have known Alice was too impatient, too immature, and too possessed by the need to prove herself to sit quietly.

It was an impressive display of courage, yes, but there was a distinction between courage and recklessness. Those possessed of the former survived. Those possessed of the latter died. Charging alone into an enemy stronghold with unidentifiable troop composition bordered more closely to the latter.

Ballista missiles speared through the air; the first wave missed completely, the archers having miscalculated the effective firing range of the siege weapons. A ballistae firing grid was designed to fight off massed groups of fliers, anyways, not individual targets. It was too easy to miss.

"Kayleth!" the tactician finally came back to his senses to see Lyn pointing at Alice in abject terror.

The Baron calmed himself, killed the fear that was growing within him, and took in a deep breath. He turned to address the assembled Wyvern Knights.

"All forces, charge. Straight line. Wyvern Knights, pick up at least one ground pounder each and drop them off on the ramparts."

An uproar of vehement protests were flung at Kayleth, citing overlapping anti-air firing fields, magi, and whatnot but Kayleth could hardly make sense of their arguments and frankly he had long ceased to care.

Elaine let out an ear-piercing shriek, and the Wyvern Knights were silent.

"… You all seem to think that you have a choice in this matter, and that much is true. What I ask of you is dangerous, reckless, and foolhardy."

Vaida snorted. "Save that speech for the cowards. If that little girl is charging that, so am I!"

With that, she and Umbriel took the air. Heath nodded at Kayleth and followed suit. The Wyvern Knights wavered, expecting their general to die at any moment.

"… As I was saying, you do have a choice though." At Kayleth's side, Lyn drew the Mani Katti. Jaffar unsheathed his knives. All of Kayleth's legionaries and auxiliaries drew their weapons. "If you stay here, I will kill you. Well, it'll be the ones I brought with me doing the killing. Now, I doubt we can kill all of you, but if you kill us… do you think the King will be forgiving of you?" Kayleth snorted. "You'll all be crucified and hanged for joining the Prince's side in the first place. The King's psychosis will not spare you. Now, to my second point. If Alice dies, I am going to kill myself. If you think you can win the civil war without me, when all the Inner Duchies and Hamor rise in defense of the capital, you have my permission to kill me."

No one made to kill him, so Kayleth decided to continue speaking. "Those are the penalties of not doing as I tell you to. I am not a heartless man, though. Let it not be said that the Red Baron does not provide incentives. The first one to breach the wall will receive ten thousand in gold. Those five who Alice, at the end of the day, deems to have done most to rescue her will be granted Baronies within my County. For the top three, I will consider, and I stress consider, blessing your cowardly, dim, meaningless, and **pathetic** lives with her hand, and with her hand the Duchy. So those are your choices; stay and face certain death, or charge, probably survive, and perhaps win a title. And therefore, I will give you ten seconds to take to the air before ordering my Legion to slaughter you. Ten..."

It took seven seconds for all Wyvern Knights to have taken to the air.

Kayleth had no intention, none at all, to hand out Baronies and most certainly not Alice's hand so nonchalantly. She could marry an unworthy man over his dead, cold, and decaying body. "Well? You had all better get in the top five, charge! Legio XVI, advance!"

"Yes, my Lord." Kayleth's Falcoknights and Wyvern Lords took to the air, forming a bodily wall around Kayleth and Lyn atop Elaine. The ground-pounders mounted their horses and made towards the castle.

"Tell me she's alive," said Kayleth, handing Lyn his spying glass.

Lyn's relieved breath told him everything.

* * *

It was all a blur for Alice.

Arrows and ballista rounds rose to meet her, but she spurred Fenrir upwards, into the high skies above the clouds and below the blistering sun.

Then, she let Fenrir plummet towards the ground.

The archers realized too late what Alice had planned. She emptied her coin purse and just scattered all of her weapons but her silver lance and her sword.

Coins were highly effective projectiles when they gathered enough momentum. Alice cleared a landing zone for herself, and slowed Fenrir at the last possible moment to touch down. Heath would be proud of her. She forced Fenrir to leave, for the flight had taken its toll and left him too exhausted to do any fighting.

Alice lowered her visor, drew her sword, and charged. As she had landed in the middle of the central tower, the archers and the magi couldn't do anything for fear of hitting their own allies.

Alice and her mount had no shortage of targets. Each swing of the ancient sword reaped a defender's life. Her enchanted armor shrugged off the occasional arrows and her prodigious magical resistance rendered all but the most direct of hits worthless. Ballistae turned to aim at her but she kept going, never heading in the direction where a credible defensive line was already formed. The ballistae crews missed, and slaughtered more of their own instead.

She distinctly heard officers screaming at the archers and magi not to fire for fear of killing their own. That was all well and good. In the cramped confines of the hill, they could not flee from her and they were too intimidated to box her in effectively.

Alice intended to buy enough time for the main force to arrive, and charged at the ballistae crew. The archers were hapless in close quarters.

The guards were overcoming their initial shock, however, and were surrounding her. Alice briefly glanced at the skies but could see nothing.

Heavily armored Knights stepped forward, waving their lances threateningly. They intended to capture her if possible.

She rewarded their arrogance with her weapon, designed to shed the blood of dragons and uncaring of how many layers of armor a soldier was wearing.

"That's it! Just kill her!" someone screamed.

Alice whirled to decapitate an axeman approaching from her left, and parried the thrust of a lance. However, she could not react in time to evade a hammer wielded by a Warrior. Alice choked as the wind was driven out of her, and rolled backwards to buy herself time.

While her armor was unlikely to be penetrated by a blade, it shared the problem of all heavy armor. It was vulnerable to concussive force. Heavy weapons like hammers, axes, reinforced lances, and greatswords would eventually kill her.

She turned and angled towards the magi instead. She trusted in her mother's blood and the talisman-studded and ward-encrypted armor to protect her. It would take a powerful spellcaster to stop her.

While the spellcasters were attacking her, the non-magical troops did not dare get close to her in case they were hit by the spells.

The magi died in droves, surprised in finding her alive after being struck repeatedly by thunder and fire spells. In close quarters, they were too distracted with backing away from her to be efficient spell slingers. This was a lesson Etruria's Mage Legions learned the hard way over the first century of their existence. They learned enough to supplement their expensive magi, for training and magic tomes took a lot of resources, with expendable troops who could hold the line.

Alice realized, too late, that she had killed all the magi on the tower. The regular troops moved forward to box her in, and she was cornered. She wondered why it was taking so long for her brother's forces to arrive.

She parried the first set of prodding, breaking the lances by the shaft and rendering them ineffective. The armorslayer class swords and axes were a different matter. She stumbled as a sword impacted with her right greave.

A greatsword struck her elbow, jarring Alice's grip on her weapon. Her opponents were getting more confident. Another greatsword caught her across the chest, and forced her back to the edge of the rampart. She parried an axe coming for her helmet but it was weak and the axe carried on to connect.

"No!" and strangely, Alice thought it was a voice she recognized, though it might have been the case that she was too dazed. "Do not harm her! That is Lady Alice, the missing daughter of the Duke of Hamor! Twenty thousand gold to anyone who brings her to me alive and unharmed!"

At that proclamation, chaos ensued. Alice realized that they were fighting over exactly who got to capture her. She chuckled, and while fending off the recklessly unarmed approaches of some men, tried to find the source of the voice.

Her heart missed a beat as she recognized Nestor, her father's butler and thus the head of the household in the citadel of Winterfell.

Enchanted armor and weapon or not, forty years' difference in age or not, she was going to be captured and hauled to her parents. The Duchy of Hamor tended to breed a very special kind of butlers, and one of the key qualifications of a Hamorian butler was the ability to physically remove the threats to his master, or die trying.

Nestor had been in service to her House for five decades, and nearly three as the head butler. He fought alongside her grandfather and father. That he was still alive spoke volumes of his skills in battle.

And he came for her when she was weakest. She was disarmed in an instant.

"My Lady," Nestor bowed. "Where did you get your Lord Uncle's sword?"

Alice noted that the soldiers were still fighting each other over the prize, and she drew her backup weapon.

"This is a waste of time, my Lady," Nestor said, almost lazily knocking the sword away into the courtyard below.

"Nestor… what do you plan to do to me?"

"Force Lord Kayleth to surrender, and take you two back to the Duke."

Alice scoffed at the suggestion, "He'll never surrender to father, and he won't believe that you'd hurt me."

"You underestimate his loyalty to you, my Lady. Even as a child he was very attached to your future. As for the other part… your bruises should perform adequately."

"Out of curiosity, how did you know it was me?"

"Oh I know very well what your armor looks like. I've been observing you for days. You have grown to be as lovely as your mother is."

"Flattery won't get me to cooperate with you."

"And it used to work so well when you were eight, dear… my sword will have to be enough, then," Nestor sighed, and approached at a leisurely pace.

Alice and he froze as a bell rang from the central keep. Nestor's expression darkened as he realized that Kayleth's forces had taken advantage of the distraction.

It seemed that the reports of Wyvern Knights flying to the Prince's banner was true. Over two Legions of them dropped off their payload of ground troops, and then engaged the Loyalists. Amidst the confusion, there was no way that the two Legions guarding the stronghold could organize a creditable defense for more than half an hour. It would probably take less.

"It seems that it is too late for my brother to surrender," Alice smirked and picked up her uncle's sword, which she had been edging towards while Nestor was distracted. "Why don't you join me?"

"… I cannot. Three of my grandchildren have completed their military service and are working at the citadel."

"I would never hurt you or yours!" Alice hissed, disgusted at the very concept. Her father being away on business most of the time and her grandfather having died decades before her birth, Nestor was the only one she could call grandfather. His grandchildren were her playmates and guardians. His youngest son was Kayleth's butler.

"No, but the Duke very well might. I also believe there is nothing good to be had in this civil war. This is my free will as a Hamorian. I will not support the Prince over the King."

"The Prince is a good man! He'll change Bern for the better!" Alice pleaded.

"I am old for a reason, little one. It is because I was wise and perceptive enough to survive. He will be no less a tyrant than our current ruler is."

"You're wrong, and you can't base your judgment on what little you've seen of him!"

"As opposed to how much you've seen of him?" Nestor rolled his eyes, and beheaded one of the Prince's troops who had reached him. "It is getting dangerous here. For the last time, I offer you the chance to come with me peacefully."

Before Alice could reply, a giant of a man was dropped off in front of Alice and blocked her view of Nestor.

"Your Grace, please step back from the fighting," Murdock said, eying the butler warily.

"Murdock, you can't kill him!" Alice said, holding on to his right arm. "I order you not to hurt him."

"Wyvern General Murdock. A pleasure. However, you're mistaken my Lady. I'm the one who'll be doing all of the killing and hurting."

"Who is this?" Murdock asked, forcing Alice's arms off his arm and drawing his lance.

"That's Nestor, and he is someone I care very much for. You must not hurt him under any circumstances!" Alice hoped that her training would enable her to control him. By this point, she had taken off her helmet, the better to convey her voice.

The art of verbal command was a tricky matter. It was not magic, nor was it science. The right tone was different for everyone, depending on the audience and the speaker. Kayleth's tone ran towards the lower end of the spectrum, promising untold of horrors and unending retribution for disobedience and something close to fair wages for obedience; something very much like a priest assuring eternal damnation to those who didn't pay the tithe, only a whole lot more convincing.

Her mother's ran in a similar manner, albeit higher in pitch and mixed in with offers of gratitude. Her father's was the distinctly barking command of a warlord, leaving no doubt in one's mind that obedience was not only the sole viable option, but the only option available for the path to greater honor and glory in battle; especially effective against men whose evolutionary directive was to recognize and obey alpha males.

When she came of age, her tutor had indicated that her disposition was similar to her father's; just as firm, but softer, and to inspire obedience through the audience's desire to please her. Alice's tone was that of a proud supplicant. Kayleth had said something about 'more like a proud beggar' before she punished him with three days of silence.

Alice found that, despite being in the perfect demographic for susceptibility to her voice, Murdock was unfortunately not the right type of audience. He said he would try, before engaging in full-fledged mortal combat.

Murdock was clearly the stronger, and had the advantage of longer reach with his lance. By contrast, Nestor depended on cunning and speed. Five decades' worth of fighting experience gave Nestor the uncanny art of great economy in motion and skill in exploiting structural weaknesses in heavy armor.

Not a minute into the breathtaking battle, Murdock was gasping for breath and bleeding all over. His left knee was shattered. The left shoulder was straining to move. His right hip was suffering. Murdock could not believe he was going to be killed by an old man, Hamorian or not.

Nestor was not as obviously tired, and he had yet to feel the business end of Murdock's weapon.

"Step back, Murdock," Alice hefted up her own weapon, and put on her helmet.

"No. You'll die." Murdock wheezed as he coughed up more blood.

"He won't hurt me."

"I apologize in advance for having to render you unconscious, my Lady," Nestor said.

Alice knew that she would not last five seconds against him if he really tried. She wondered, not for the first time, where her brother was.

There was a clang of metal against metal as Alice parried the horizontally arched blow determined to disarm her. Alice had recuperated somewhat, though she cursed not having taken the elixir from the saddle on Fenrir.

Furthermore, her pride would never allow a Wyvern General to die while she was defending him. Alice also knew that Nestor was trying to disarm her and knock her unconscious. This severely limited Nestor's offensive capabilities while Alice could fight without restraint. She knew perfectly well that she couldn't harm him.

Her goal was to hold off until reinforcements arrived, whenever that was.

A Wyvern Knight landed behind her, and Alice recognized the wyvern, the finest of the breed and father to her own Fenrir while son to Kayleth's Elaine. It made for an amusing circumstance when they were penned in the same aviary.

"Step back from the Duchess you cur!" Ramirez said, brandishing his lance.

Alice groaned. Now she was going to have the heir of a Duchy and a Wyvern General killed on her watch. This was not how she envisioned her day would go when she decided to prove herself to Kayleth. Already she could imagine how furious he was. He wouldn't care about Ramirez and Murdock dying but he would be enraged by her risking her life.

"A friend of the Lady?" Nestor chuckled. "Nestor, head butler to the House of Winterfell, and thus Lady Alice's servant, at your service. Now, pray die."

Alice moved as quickly as she was able to block off his approach to Ramirez, forcing Nestor to stop his blade midway.

Ramirez's lance thrust forward from the back, and created some space for him to maneuver in.

"Lord Ramirez. This is no ordinary foe. I suggest prudence or preferably retreat with General Murdock in tow."

Alice could feel the man frown in his helmet. "I can't leave a Duchess to the mercies of a servant."

"That interpretation of chivalry is getting tiresome, Lord," Alice snapped. "I order you, as a Duchess, to leave with the General."

"That is one of the commands I cannot obey in these circumstances."

"Why didn't you at least bring a passenger?!"

"Erm..." Alice had a point, his wyvern was big enough for four.

That conversation stopped when Nestor charged again. Ramirez quickly came to understanding Alice's warning as well as his own father's warning about Hamorians. He would have been killed if it was not so obvious that his opponent seemed completely unwilling to harm Alice.

A Loyalist soldier entered the fray from the couple's blindside, and Alice gasped as a hammer was driven into the left side of her head. Her head swam as she tried to stand with both hands on her blade, using it is a crutch.

Nestor's lip curled in displeasure as he killed the half a dozen Loyalist soldiers who were getting too close to his target. The Warrior who had struck Alice was disemboweled and castrated with a few strokes of his sword. If possible, he wanted to take the man back to Winterfell for the proper attentions of a professional torturer but he probably did not have the time.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" Nestor started to approach her but was driven back by Ramirez's lance.

"Keep your distance."

"You're starting to annoy me, boy. I've changed her diapers."

"I command you to stop saying embarrassing things," Alice groaned as Ramirez was struck silent and quite beyond recovery for a few moments.

There was a thud, and a screeching of claw marks on stone next to her.

"Enemy?" a ginger asked, leaping off the wyvern and pointing his sword at Nestor.

Alice felt the familiar sensation of pain dissipating into warmth that accompanied healing magic as a blonde healed her. "Are you alright, Alice?"

Nestor charged at Alice's would-be rescuers. Heath, Raven, and Lucius responded in kind.

Even with three veterans against him, Nestor gave a good account of himself. Hyperion's left wing was dangling before Lucius healed him. Raven was suffering the same fate Murdock had suffered, but he wasn't as well-armored and the bleeding was more serious. Alice tried to step in but Lucius held her back, saying that she would get in Raven and Heath's way, and it was true.

Alice would've told them not to kill Nestor but she knew by now that it would be Nestor doing all the killing.

"Alice, stay in cover and do not move," a voice rumbled from behind her.

Kayleth's face was a mask of calm, but Alice knew her brother well enough that the mask was hiding what seemed to be the most rage she had ever seen in him. That the fury was directed at her was mind-numbing. His voice compelled her to obey.

"My Lord, isn't a tactician supposed to oversee the battle as a whole?" Nestor asked.

"I am not your Lord," Kayleth spat, directing Guy forward. "I am your judge, and your sentence is death. Be grateful that a Saint of Swords will be your executioner."

"Kayleth, you can't kill Nestor!"

"Silence! Not a word from you!" Kayleth snarled. Alice was right; he had never been more furious in his life.

For Kayleth, this was the man who watched his siblings die. He had to be killed before he could say anything about them to Alice.

As the tactician suspected, Nestor was tired. Surviving into old age as a warrior gave one experience, but it also took away stamina. Guy was pushing him back. Most of the Loyalist troops in the fortress were dead, and the main gate was open so that even more of the revolutionaries could pour in.

Nestor turned around to deflect Legault's attack. He also managed to evade two of Kayleth's Falcoknights. Three Wyvern Knights were beheaded or skewered for their impetuousness.

Wallace entered the fray and recognizing the threat, Nestor turned his attentions on him. After a flurry of exchanges, Nestor managed to cut through the armor at Wallace's ribs.

He had underestimated the General, though. Wallace abandoned his lance in favor of holding on to the sword with all of his prodigious strength.

It was then a simple matter for Guy to stick a sword through his guts.

"Lucius," Kayleth pointed at Wallace. "Urumi, announce to the Loyalists that their commander is dead."

"Kayleth, couldn't we spare him?" Alice pleaded.

"No. He must die. He's too dangerous to live," Kayleth said, walking over to the dying butler.

"She doesn't know?" Nestor whispered, that only Kayleth could hear.

"No, and she never will," the Baron whispered back while removing the silver pendant from the old man's neck.

"That is for the best," Nestor nodded, and rolled a little to cough up blood. "Won't you check me for weapons?"

Kayleth rolled his eyes. "I know where you keep them but I know you'd never cause me physical harm."

"Please, Kayleth. I beg you!" Alice said, gathering the courage to face her brother's wrath.

"Nestor. This I ask ask your Lord. Would you be a willing soldier or at least a cooperative prisoner?"

"No, my Lord. My first duty is to my liege. It is also my free will to oppose Zephiel in whatever way possible," the butler replied.

"See? Has to die," Kayleth shrugged.

"But-"

"Not another damned word," the tactician snarled. "We will discuss your punishment later. Any last words, Nestor?"

"My children... my grandchildren..."

"They will learn of your death, and they will be treated fairly," Kayleth assented.

"The Prince... I beg of you to believe in my view, my Lord. There is something wrong with him. He may be a sociopath. I've observed him before at the palace and-"

Kayleth flared at this accusation. "Nestor, do you think me so incompetent that I cannot tell whether the man I follow is a sociopath? Remember your place, servant."

"No! Merely that I do not think you've seen him when he is vulnerable. And I am-"

"Old for a reason, yes. I'll keep an eye out," the Baron sighed, lifting Nestor's body away from the viscera and leaning him against the wall. "Anything else?"

"Long life and prosperity to you, my Lord, and you as well little Lady. My apologies for my shameful failures, my Lord."

"Apology accepted, though not enough to absolve you of your guilt. She'll become the Duchess when your Duke is dead," Kayleth revealed, surprising the dying man.

"Then may you be as strong a ruler as your predecessors were," Nestor said, placing a hand over Alice's wet cheek. "May you be the guardian of our people's free will, the overseer of our continued prosperity, guide of our enlightenment, and champion of our Legions. I wish for you greatness, though doubtless you will achieve it."

"Good bye Nestor," Alice brought her sobbing under control. It would be unseemly to send off her servant in weakness. "And I swear to you, that I will be the greatest ruler of Hamor since the eighteenth. Your grandchildren will never lack for anything."

"And of you," Nestor turned to face Kayleth. "I wish of you peace and happiness."

"I wouldn't be sure about the former, but I promise you of the latter," Kayleth said, placing his hands around the old man's head. "And I promise your children's future. My last command to you is to close your eyes."

Knowing what Kayleth was about to do, and in considerable pain, Nestor set himself upright against the wall and closed his eyes. A sharp twist of the neck ended his pain.

"The battle has been won, my Lord. About a hundred and fifty of their men have surrendered," Urumi reported.

"They're supposed to be troops drawn from this County, correct?" Kayleth said, patting Alice's head as she cried. "They will serve their true liege Lord, then, or be sent back to their homes. Burn the bodies. Salt and preserve this one."

* * *

Kayleth and Alice were alone in the latter's room.

Alice fidgeted as her brother sat, silent.

The public celebration of the army's victory was over, and the mess from the battle mostly cleaned up as the army camped in and around the stronghold for the night.

Alice and Vaida were publicly praised by the Prince for their valor and especially the former's instrumental part in causing so few casualties to the troops. One noble after the other went on and on about how Alice's conduct was worthy and perhaps even superior to the greatness endowed on her by her ancestors.

So did Kayleth, publicly.

Right after the festivities, however, Alice found Kayleth waiting in her temporary quarters.

There was none of the furious screaming or tirades he went on when he was especially angry. Kayleth looked like he usually did when he was disappointed or mildly annoyed. Yet, Alice could tell that he was furious beyond imagining.

How she wished that he'd yell at her, or even hit her. Already she felt like a six year old girl again and she withered in the cold glance of her only brother. That Lyn wasn't with him did not bode well for her, either. Her sister-in-law was the greatest pacifying influence on her brother, and vice-versa.

This meant she'd be facing the full fury of Lyn as well, and that was a dreadful prospect in the best of circumstances.

Kayleth finally spoke. "You have betrayed me."

Alice was going to deny it but Kayleth put up a hand, accompanied by a glance that told her that an adult was speaking and that it was on a matter in which six year old children should be completely silent.

The next words stabbed Alice as though they were made of real knives. "You have stabbed a knife in your only brother's back. You have betrayed Lyn. Not even a dog bites the hand that feeds it. Especially not when that hand was never raised against it. Lyn is waiting for you in our quarters. You will report there immediately after this conversation."

This was worse than Alice had imagined. Kayleth had never been more furious in his life, she could tell, and he was applying as much guilt as possible on her. The guilt, put in Kayleth's words, were mind-numbing. She tried to protest but was silenced by his hand again.

Kayleth took a breath, and put Nestor's pendant on the table. "You have betrayed your cause, your liege, and your people. You have survived because of one reason only; one of the most capable operators in all of Elibe was there and he needed you alive. Thanks to you, that operator could not retreat and had to be killed. You, not Guy and not I, killed Nestor. Hamor will be all the weaker with his death. All this treachery and incompetence, and why? Because you, in your pride, felt that you had to prove yourself. Ironically, you proved yourself immature, impetuous, and childish. You have disgraced your blood."

"You had no other plans and time was running out!"

"So you decide to volunteer to suicide? Alice, let me tell you something that you are never to say to my daughters. I've attempted suicide twice."

"What?!" Alice recoiled in horror.

"Exactly. It is that disgusting, that cowardly, that irresponsible, that immature. It is that feeling of betrayal. For that, I apologize. However, consider the reverse," Kayleth's eyes narrowed. "Imagine, though you cannot possibly do so, having a daughter. You're her only caretaker and you've raised her for most of your life. Her future is the most important thing in the world and you would literally burn all of Elibe to the ground to safeguard it. All of your hopes ride on her. Now, imagine that daughter trying to commit suicide. If you can picture that, you will know a fraction of the hurt, the feeling of utter betrayal you've caused me."

Kayleth's voice was still steady, but wavered every now and then. "Can you imagine it? One of the worst kinds of betrayal that a human can inflict on another. Yet, you do this to me? How dare you..." Kayleth snarled and it devastated Alice to see tears in his eyes, though he was trying to hold them back. "How dare you, of all people, do this to me? When have I ever failed to provide for you? When have I ever failed to respect your free will? When have I ever given you the impression that you are not good enough?"

"What have I done that I have so completely failed in my duty as your guardian? What have I done that you think so little of me? What have I done that drives you to so nonchalantly hurt me? What have I done to have deserved that torture, of seeing you fly to certain death? By what right have you caused me such pain? How dare you? How dare you? How dare you?"

Alice couldn't answer. It was unimaginable thinking of Kayleth committing suicide. The pain she dealt him, she realized, made that pain seem paltry in comparison, and it hurt her like all the pain she had ever felt in her life at once combined to know that she hurt him.

"No answer? I thought not. For now, this will be the extent of your punishment," Kayleth said, and Alice noticed that his eyes had dried. "My one final warning is that if you ever do something so suicidal again, I'll destroy human civilization. You don't think I can? Watch me. I will put such power into the Church that all intellectual endeavors will be stifled and all pre-Scouring libraries burned. I will put such power into the nobility, and kill all the competent ones, that Laus will seem a well-run state. I will put such power into the bandits and the pirates that no one would have the incentive to work. I will make sure that the vast majority of humanity suffer through their short, brutish, and miserable lives without a glimmer of hope. I will set humanity in Elibe back thousands of years, and do the same for the humans on the new continent as well. I've been trained to raise humanity, but it is far simpler to put it down. Do not test me, Alice. You should know better than any that I am a very, very capable man."

She very well believed Kayleth capable of it, and the thought terrified her. That he had even thought about it was horrible but that he had plans was truly terrifying.

"You are free to fight, of course. You are a free woman. You may fight when your commander, that is me, tells you to fight. I will put you in more dangerous situations when you prove to me that you are mature enough to follow the orders of your betters. You are dismissed. Urumi will guide you to Lyn. I suggest you do not test her patience, either."

"Kayleth, I-"

"Leave!" Kayleth shouted, putting all of his training in oration and voice to be obeyed. The shout conveyed his feelings perfectly.

Alice fled, bursting out of the room, and taking ragged breaths. She choked in tears as the familiar form of the ginger held her and patted her, making soothing sounds.

"There, there," Urumi said. "Don't be so sad."

It was a while before Alice could calm down enough to speak.

"Have you listened to a fraction of what he said to me?" Alice gasped, the memory bringing her a fresh bout of nausea as she emptied her stomach once more.

"All of it, actually... and I pray you do not test him, my Lady. If anyone is capable of carrying out his threats, it is master Kayleth."

"It hurts... it hurts..." Alice groaned, clutching her head.

"Injuries from the battle?" Urumi was alarmed. Her master was in the worst of moods she had ever seen in her life. Though she was granted much trust in her duties as his second, it also meant she had the most responsibilities after himself.

"Everywhere," Alice shrank into a ball, clutching her head and burying it in her knees.

"... May I speak freely, Alice?"

"No, I want you to comfort me," Alice snarled.

"In a moment. My responsibility, though, is to help you grow."

"I'm not listening."

"You're being a brat, Alice, and everything your brother said was true."

"Stop!" Alice screamed.

"You think you hurt him? Imagine how he feels, knowing what pain you must be suffering."

Alice considered, and nodded. There was no way Kayleth did not know. It made her feel better. Not as good as corporal punishment would have been but still, it was better than no punishment at all.

"Now, imagine the pain he would feel, knowing what kind of pain he caused you just now."

Her right hand shot out to grasp Urumi's throat and snarled, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Urumi choked as Alice let go, and regained her balance next to her.

"Because I am an orphan, Alice, and you couldn't imagine a fraction of the things I would do to have a guardian like your brother."

That hurt even more. Kayleth had never failed to provide for her, and that she had betrayed him hurt even more.

"Just as I cannot imagine what it would feel like to have a sibling who would go against every fiber of his morality and upbringing for my sake. To have a sibling who would literally go insane if I died. To have a sibling who would see the world burn rather than live without me. Thus, I must inform you that you are being a brat. You were willing to scrap what most people would kill to have? Are you sure you share the same blood as your brother? You would be so stupid as to throw away that kind of devotion for a few scraps of pride? Shame on you."

"That's enough, Urumi."

"But Lyn-"

Alice kept her head buried. She couldn't bare to face Lyn. Not now. She thought she might actually die if Lyn scolded her as well.

"I think she may have learned her lesson. Too well. Please go drag Kayleth to our chamber."

"... Yes, my Lady."

Footsteps told Alice that Urumi was walking away, and she felt the familiar touch of Lyn's arm around her back and her hand on her head.

It killed her that she had driven a knife through Lyn as well, and her tears were uncontrollable.

Lyn said nothing, and held Alice's head on her lap, mildly disconcerted that her tears were drenching her dress.

"I'm s-so sorry Lyn," Alice said, still unable to look at her.

Lyn sighed as she realized she'd have to lecture her husband on a completely unfamiliar concept called restraint for the hundredth time.

"You were very brave, Alice."

"... You d-don't think t-that."

Lyn raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever heard me lie?"

"I-I hurt y-you."

"More than you would ever know, but I know you'd never do it again."

Lyn watched as Alice wiped her tears on her dress. She chuckled, remembering when Alice was eight, and proceeded to kiss her forehead.

"I love you, Lyn," Alice said, sniffing.

"Want to blow your nose?" Lyn offered the already wet part of her dress. "I'll have to get it cleaned anyways."

Alice found her own handkerchief. It felt like a river was inside her nose.

"So... will you forgive me."

"Have I ever not? You're Alice, and I love you as much as I love my daughters," Lyn said, stroking Alice's hair and neck. "Just promise me you'll never do something so reckless again and go to sleep. I feel like I've aged a decade."

"I promise... can you sleep with me tonight?"

"Of course I can, dear," Lyn said, lifting Alice with her arms. It had been a long day and her lecture for Kayleth would have to wait.

* * *

The vast majority of Prince Zephiel's troops were camped close to the walls, and about two Legions were making a din with drums and assorted improvised implements in shifts. This had gone on for three days and nights.

To say that the soldiers in the castle wanted to cut their ears off wasn't much of an overstatement.

"Sentries down," Jaffar reported with his communication stones.

"Good," Kayleth turned to face four scores of his chosen troops. "If anyone has questions about their part in the plan, now would be the time to speak."

Silence reigned the cave. Kayleth had been drilling them for hours about 'the plan'. People who had unsatisfactory answers were flogged and taken off the task force. They had all memorized their parts in 'the plan' well enough to have been dragooned by him.

"I thought not. Go."

Out of the cave in the mountain into which the castle was built, a dozen wyverns and Pegasii sped to the central tower of the citadel. The plan was to sneak the task group through the top, down into the aviary, and split up to perform various tasks to eventually cut off the citadel from the rest of the castle, forcing the Loyalists outside the citadel to surrender.

Alice's mission was to wait on top of the tower with the other fliers to provide a getaway if things went south.

Matthew and Jaffar were dumping bodies inside the haystacks that were the wyverns' beds.

"Group alpha, with me," Kayleth said, nodding at Jaffar and Matthew as he passed by.

As all but one of the groups went in, Alice saw her chance. She joined the last group.

"Erm... you're not part of this group, Your Grace."

Alice recognized the soldier she had knighted for his part in making the first battle a success. His name was Cuam, unless she was mistaken.

"I'm coming anyways. I authorize it," she said.

"Huh?"

A head popped out of the hatch leading to the aviary. "Cuam, what's taking you so long?!" the man snapped. Alice recognized this one, too, because she had knighted her. It was Asteion, and he had apparently proven himself competent enough that Kayleth inducted him into his own Legion.

"Lady Alice is coming with us!" Cuam hissed back.

"What?! Our orders were very clear on that matter! She's not going anywhere!"

"I am the highest ranking noble after the senior Dukes and the Prince. I am coming," Alice said.

"... Does it really work that way?" Cuam said.

"... No. Battlefield command comes first. Technically, a centurion outranks her. Anyone with squad command outranks her. Our supreme commander has ordered us not to take her."

"Really? If we're talking technicalities, I can have you both executed for no reason. Technically, outside the battlefield, I outrank the supreme commander. Technically, I can tell my brother that you tried to lay a hand on me, and he'll torture you both for years before he kills you for that," Alice threatened, never mind that her brother was well-trained and experienced at reading body language. It wasn't infallible and it wouldn't tell him what she was lying about, but he'd know she was lying.

"What?!" Cuam yelped.

"Be quiet you idiot!" Asteion hissed.

"Besides, you're running out of time," Alice pointed out.

"The Baron will torture us to death for this anyways!" Cuam was near hysterical.

"Not if he doesn't find out..." Asteion reasoned. "But what she says is true. She can have us fed to wyverns if she felt like it. If we don't allow her to come, we face certain death. Come, Your Grace, and please follow my orders for the duration of this operation."

"Fine," Alice grinned. She was a leader, not a commander. Strategies were for her brother. Leading the charge with a battle cry was for her.

"Then we don't have time to waste. To the side gate, quickly."

Alice and Cuam dropped on the hay that lay below the ladder to join Asteion and the others in the group. There were two excluding them. Alice recognized both, one being an Assassin named Tear. She was one of Kayleth's employees. The other was Nino, who looked very confused by Alice's presence.

"Oh?" the Assassin smirked as she licked her lips. "I usually don't like surprises but Lady Alice is always, ah... welcome."

Alice's face lit up as if on fire and Cuam guffawed as he realized why. Tear was not particularly discriminating in terms of sexual partners but she had a preference for women. 'Cleaner,' she said, when she had offered Alice her services should she ever be 'curious', saying that she might as well satisfy her curiosity with a 'professional'.

"Alice, what are you doing here?" Nino said, uncharacteristically suspicious.

"I can't just wait for you at the tower," Alice said, not at all caring about the situation she had put the rest of the group in but guilty about dragging Nino in. Nino had healed her and babysat her on numerous occasions over the past six years after she and Jaffar decided staying with Kayleth would be the best bet for survival and recovery of their children. Alice was too old to be babysat now but Nino was a nice woman. She consoled herself that at least Kayleth was too practical to hurt Nino for this; he needed Jaffar's service. That was why he had promised Nino a Barony.

Asteion palmed his face as he said, "Alright. Personal quirks, issues, and worries aside, we have a job to do, and Lord Kayleth will flay us alive if we fail. Agent Tear, please make sure nothing happens to Her Grace."

Tear frowned. "Of course I will. I haven't tasted her... yet."

"... Excuse me, but I would pay all the gold I have to watch that." Cuam told Tear, as serious as a man asking to marry a woman. "I promise you can use me as a slave if you let me join. For the rest of my life."

"You don't have any gold left, dolt! We're moving, now!" Asteion said as Alice slapped Cuam with all the force she could summon.

"I guess not. I'll tell you all about it, though, for five thousand gold," Tear said as she picked up the dazed man.

The group proceeded towards the main stairwell connecting all of the floors.

"This gate must be pretty small for Kayleth to assign four people to it," Alice groaned. She'd been hoping for a chance to redeem herself, to her brother, and securing a small side entrance for servants was not going to cut it.

"It's highly unlikely we'll be fighting, Your Grace," Asteion said as the group hurtled down the stairwell. Twelve of Kayleth's soldiers were guarding the entire length of it, though Alice saw the smears and specks of blood from their killing the guards.

They seemed mildly confused that Alice was inside, but did not comment. They probably thought that she had permission. It took several minutes to get near their group's destination.

"We have the aviary, servants' quarters, armory, rear access, and stairwell. Five objectives remain, including ours. Casualties minimal," Asteion said, hearing reports from his communications stone. "Cale and the Saint of Swords are securing the dungeons. Lord Kayleth is busy taking the barracks and the throne room. We should be able to take our objective before he realizes you're with us."

"Thank you, all, for taking me," Alice said in as humble and dignified fashion as she could.

Cuam scowled, "You blackmailed us!"

Alice scowled back, "I'd never turn on my own soldiers!"

"Silence!" Asteion hissed, angry that he had not considered the threat in Alice's perspective. He should have realized it was an empty threat. "We're in an unsecured area. Oh, the main entrance and barracks have been taken. Three objectives remain."

"... Contact. I'll be just a moment," Tear said.

She returned two minutes later.

"Go, go, go!" Asteion said.

Tear took point again, and it seemed that the group was going to have an obstacle-free approach to their objective.

To everyone's surprise, and delight, it was an obstacle-free path.

"Hurry! Help me with the bar!" Cuam said as he lifted the iron bar used to lock the entrance. It was a small one, enough for perhaps two to fit abreast. The group was four feet from the entrance when it suddenly opened.

Sleep-deprived soldiers filed through the door, yawning and obviously quite exhausted, until they realized that something was off.

More specifically, no one they knew wore a dress and armor as fancy as Alice's.

Nino unleashed the incantation she had been whispering and a torrent of wind threw the troops out.

"We need to kill them first!" Asteion shouted as he joined the fray.

"Call for reinforcements!" Cuam screamed.

"The Baron will notice-"

"He'll hunt down our families and slaughter them if Lady Alice dies here! Call him!" Cuam urged, and started hacking away at the rather dazed but quite hostile enemies trying to pour through the door.

Asteion activated his communications stone, "Lord Kayleth, we need immediate reinforcements at the side entrance."

"You've been detected."

"The patrol returned seven minutes earlier than observed and expected, Lord. There are about seventy of them remaining. A couple seem to be running off to get help-never mind, Lady Nino killed them. But we're being pushed back, my Lord."

"We're almost done here. With Nino, you should be able to hold out for a few minutes."

Asteion sighed as he revealed his trump card, "Lady Alice is here."

There was a pause, but the reply was what he needed, "A squad is on the way. ETA three minutes. And Knight?"

The Knight gulped, "Yes, milord?"

"I expect to recover my sister in perfect condition. No scratches. Is that understood?"

While Asteion was a veteran of a fair number of battles, he couldn't help but tremble at the level of malice in that command. While his own Lord Burmann had praised Kayleth for his capability, he also warned him that he was a dangerously possessive man. The tone told him that Alice was one of his most prized possessions.

"Yes, my Lord."

For Asteion, the next two and a half minutes were the most stressful and positively nightmarish two and a half minutes he had ever experienced in his life.

It was proving impossible to push the enemies out the back. He had to settle with giving up ground measured in inches, and inches covered in blood. The Sage, Nino, was powerful enough that she had already slaughtered a dozen or more soldiers.

So that was the strategy; keep the enemies off Nino and let her kill them all. There was the added burden of not letting Alice come to harm, but he was sure Nino could heal her afterwards. He told Nino to target the enemies in the rear, so the others didn't have to face fresh troops, and jumped into the melee.

Alice was enjoying the fight.

She could not fight as unconstrained as she did when she stormed the stronghold alone, for she had allies and had to stay in formation. There was, however, the certainty that Kayleth would praise her for taking the initiative to follow an undermanned group and helping them secure their objective.

The ill-equipped and sleep-deprived enemies offered no real threat individually, but their numbers allowed them to press on. Alice realized that the enemies toward the back were getting picked off by Nino.

Asteion realized that their own line was faltering. Being outnumbered more ten to one did not make for good odds even in a small corridor. They needed reinforcements and soon.

An otherworldly flare of elder magic erupted from the ground and consumed three of the tightly-packed enemies.

Alice risked a glance back and realized reinforcements were trickling in. The first one was a new addition to the sixteenth Legion, Lorene unless he was mistaken. She was a Druid of considerable power, though personally she was a mystery. Trailing a little behind her was her partner, Lord Alan of House Waylander, who had supposedly been entrusted to Kayleth by the Viscount Waylander to 'educate' him.

With the help of elder magic and another sword at the front, they were being pushed back more slowly.

With a thundering battle cry one of Kayleth's Berserkers and one of his Heroes, probably Malvator and Senel, Alice thought, charged into the fray and the line was finally stabilized. By then, half the enemy's initial troops were dead and the runners they had thought they had sent to warn the others had been killed by Nino.

Finally, the enemies were pushed back as Cale arrived, closely followed by Guy, and the enemies could not long survive the wrath of the two swords of such caliber. The entrance was immediately closed, barred, and sealed as Nino melted in some of the enemies' iron weapons into the hinges of the door.

"Kayleth told me to make all haste here for this?" Guy said, disappointed.

"I'm sorry..." Alice said, feigning tears. "I am such a bad student."

"Huh? What are you doing here?" Guy said, taken aback by her presence. "Never mind that, no, no, no, it's not your fault. Of course anyone would have trouble with this many enemies. You're a great student!"

He did not sound convincing and Alice pretended to cry.

"Guy... have you made my baby cry?" Nino growled, a disproportionately large fireball forming in the petite woman's right hand. Alice loathed being called a baby but not as much as she enjoyed humbling Guy.

Guy struggled to explain as he apologized over and over to both of them.

"All objectives have been taken. Our enemies are in the process of surrendering. Seven deaths, twenty-five injuries. The tactician passes his compliments to all," Cale said, relaying a message from his communications stone.

"Erm... Your Grace, I thought you were supposed to be waiting at the top?" Alan said, having cleaned his sword.

"Oh. Lord Alan. Erm... yes?"

"Without her, we might not have held the line," Cuam said. Alice was glad that someone was already spinning the story in the way she wanted it to be spun. On Cuam's part, there was a healthy load of interest in self-preservation in claiming Alice was an essential part of success.

"Yes, we could not have done it without Her Grace's majestic presence," Asteion added, though it sounded too forced for Alice's tastes.

"I don't know about that but it was certainly more pleasurable," Tear purred as she sniffed Alice. Only Kayleth's inevitable retribution was stopping her from taking part in the after-action festivities.

"... But seriously, I'll pay five thousand gold to watch," Cuam whispered to Tear.

Tear's reply was interrupted by Asteion, who said Kayleth was waiting for the after-action report from their squad.

* * *

Kayleth was seated on the blood-splattered throne of the citadel.

Alice, Asteion, Cuam, Nino, and Tear stood before him, and it was crystal clear that they were here to be judged. They had each given their account of the entire operation.

There were no lawyers.

"You have completed your objectives despite unforeseen difficulties," Kayleth began, "and for that you have my commendations. Nino, excellent performance as always, ten out of ten. Tear, when you operate with a group try to scout first, eight out of ten. You two are dismissed."

Both sighed in relief as they left the throne room.

"Asteion, you made the correct decision in making Nino concentrate on the troops in the back. You also knew that you couldn't push and you needed reinforcements. That said, you should've had Tear scout outside the entrance first. Nine out of ten. Cuam, you made it out alive and held the line, ten out of ten. Alice, you showed initiative in following an undermanned group and did what you could to stave off the situation from being an unmitigated disaster. Ten out of ten."

The trio were able to breathe freely again, smiling.

"You three did, however, conspire against my plans," Kayleth continued, to everyone's dread. "That is a challenge I cannot take lightly, and you are fortunate that the end result was better than how my plan would've went. You two are getting triple latrine duties and double laundry duties for two weeks."

"Brother, I didn't give them a choice," Alice pleaded. "They don't deserve to be punished."

Kayleth waved his hand. "They should have chosen execution by you. They have disobeyed their battlefield commander."

"What?" Cuam protested.

"Chain of command exists for a reason," Kayleth hissed. "If you had come back as failures, you two would have faced court martial and execution."

"What about her?!"

"She's a Duchess, essential to our strategic victory, and so far above the law I wouldn't bat an eye if she decided to have you two executed for no reason. Humans are not born equal. Know your place," the Baron snapped, ending the line of discussion.

"But... Sir Cuam raises a valid point," Kayleth continued. "I cannot let disobedience go unpunished, even from you. I have changed my mind. You three are getting quadruple latrine duties and triple laundry duties for two weeks as well as whatever chores were assigned to Nino and Tear."

The uproar was loud, mostly from Cuam and Alice, and lasted for several minutes. Alice was struck dumb at the prospect of chores. She knew the theory well enough. That she would put it into practice was giving her headaches.

Kayleth actually kept time-stamps for chores. She would have to try very hard; beg and cry a few times, appeal to Lyn, and whatnot, to get out of it.

"You've been quiet. Anything on your mind, Sir Asteion?"

The half-Nabatan shook his head. "Military discipline must be enforced. It will not happen again, my Lord."

The tactician smirked, "See? That's how an adult takes responsibility. That is a soldier. Sir Asteion, Sir Cuam, you are dismissed. The rest of you are also dismissed."

Alice watched the two and the guards leave the room. She realized that she was alone with Kayleth.

Before the night after the battle at the ballistae-laden enemy stronghold, that would be a relief. Now, she was not so sure. She'd certainly die if she was scolded again in a similar manner.

"No... I did not have everyone leave just to scold you," Kayleth said, accurately interpreting the source of her worries. It could've been her worries over the chores, but he suspected she had something in mind to evade them.

The relief and delight in Alice's face indicated that he had guessed correctly.

"Sit. You must be tired," Kayleth gestured at the smaller throne to his right, undoubtedly the one reserved for the heir to the Lord of this castle.

Alice yawned as she positioned herself on the throne comfortably.

"Sleepy?"

"It's been a long night."

Kayleth produced a piece of chocolate, one of the more expensive kind crafted by Hamorian artisans, from the labyrinth that was his robe. Alice accepted.

She decided that it was as good a time as any to prod, coming right after his victory. "Kayleth, why aren't you mad?"

The Baron shook his head, coming out of his reverie, and answered. "Why would I be mad? You were operating within the frameworks of my plan. You seized the initiative in joining an undermanned task group. You ran into a statistically unlikely opposition and odds, sure, but you survived without a scratch and that was the failure of my planning and Tear's lack of foresight, anyways. You've made me proud."

Alice was elated by such words. She decided it was time to press on. "Then why are you giving me chores? You know I could never do it."

Kayleth chuckled, seeing through the motive behind the question. "Have you ever tried? But on a more serious note, I realize that you are not six years old anymore. You are a woman, and soon to be Duchess. You will likely be married within the next decade, and start a family of your own." He stopped as he recognized the significance of what he was saying.

"... Brother?"

"Ah... and as much as it saddens me, you have to assume certain responsibilities I've been guarding you from," Kayleth set, considerably more subdued. "I will defend you from any external threats as long as I live, but those responsibilities come of your own free will. I have to prepare you for them... especially in the event that I die in battle, which is a certainty."

"It's not a certainty! You'll live forever!" Alice said, and the pout that accompanied it nearly choked Kayleth with emotion.

"Of course. But just in case. Anyhow, these chores will serve you well later?"

"How?" she whined with another pout that was wracking Kayleth with pain.

"As Duchess, you'll be above all but the highest of the high. This is a rare opportunity for you to see what your people go through. The better to understand them, and with the understanding, guide them. Please, trust me on this one. This is for your good."

It sounded a lot like how Kayleth convinced her to eat vegetables when she was little, but Alice decided not to push further. She knew now that she could shave a week off at any time. Two weeks could not hurt her much, she thought.

"Thank you," Kayleth said as he saw her relent. "Anyways, to your original question. You know you're one of my greatest strengths, and a source of pride I can't express in words. I could not stay angry at you if I tried."

"Kayleth... I'm sorry. I'll never do it again," Alice said, finally apologizing for her suicide run at the stronghold.

"I'm sorry to have hurt you that day," Kayleth replied. "Now run along and get some sleep. Tear will be waiting in your room."

"Huh?!"

"She's a good masseuse," Kayleth said, not comprehending her confusion.

Alice grumbled as she thought of the one sure way to protect her chastity without revealing Tear's sexual proclivities and thus have her tortured to death by Kayleth. It was particularly embarrassing to say, "Brother, could you tell me a bedtime story, and watch me go to sleep?"

As she had calculated, Kayleth was overcome by how bittersweet her growth was, and acquiesced. Justice would be preserved, for now.

* * *

Apologies for the wait. It'll be another two weeks before I can get the next chapter out. Midterms.


	5. Foggy and a Chance for Fire

Alice huffed as she shoveled another pile of dirt out.

She had been digging latrines for half an hour, and she already hated it. The special boots and suit required for large-scale latrine digging were coarse and uncomfortable. It also stank already, and the army had not settled in their current camping grounds for more than an hour.

Worse, rumors had circulated that the future Duchess of Hamor herself was digging latrines. Quite a crowd of common soldiers came by to confirm the rumors.

Kayleth allowed it, saying it was good for the soldiers' morale. When she had asked why he never did it, he replied with complete candor: he frankly did not give a damn what the soldiers thought of him and he was the one with complete control over the scheduling of latrine duty.

That was partly a lie, of course. Kayleth needed his soldiers to fear him more than they feared the enemy. Him digging latrines would be detrimental to that image.

"Tired?" Heath asked. He was digging a latrine next to hers.

"No," Alice sniffed with indignation.

Kayleth had scheduled quite a few of the soldiers in his personal Legion, the sixteenth, to dig latrines at the same hour. It was partly meant to decrease the burden on Alice. It was also meant to deter her from quitting. A few young noblemen had offered to do Alice's work for her, saying that it was unseemly for her to do such lowly work. Those noblemen were all conscripted by Kayleth into digging their own latrines. A few appealed to him directly. They were given gear for latrine-digging, too. No one was brave enough afterwards to say anything.

Alice noticed someone staring at her, and looked up towards the edge of the latrine. "Tear, Guy, what are you doing here?"

"Offering, erm... moral support, let's say. Not to say I don't enjoy watching your body glistening with sweat," she said, sipping whatever was in the mug. She was apparently unfazed by the smell from other finished latrines nearby.

"Watching my student do my chores for me, of course!" Guy said, not bothering to hide his delight. Kayleth had been very satisfied by his performance in the previous battle and cancelled all of his chores for the month. Half the fun in having Kayleth run an army lay in the meritocratic system of unsavory chores such as latrine duties. He had spent the last half-hour watching Matthew, who was guilty of underestimating guard strength at the throne room, dig a latrine.

"I'm going to get you later, 'master,'" Alice promised.

"But it'll take an hour to get the smell out of you," his statement horrified the young woman.

"Don't mind it much, little Lady. It keeps your enemies off you," Wallace said in an adjacent latrine. Little did he know that Kayleth had assigned him quintuple latrine duties in perpetuity, no matter his performance in the battle. The tactician had done the same for Bartre and Geitz, who were practically useless in all other chores in any case. Wallace was digging his fourth latrine already.

Anyhow, Alice didn't think even Rebecca's cooking could bring her appetite back.

"If you feel your muscles are too tired, I can join you in the bath," Tear suggested, her eyes gleaming in anticipation. "Just for a, erm... massage, scrubbing, and whatnot."

"I'd pay five thousand gold to watch that, too," Alice heard Cuam say.

"For such high-grade meat? You're kidding yourself. At least ten thousand gold and only to get a glimpse of her!" Tear insisted.

"You could hire a Falcoknight for months with that kind of gold!" Cuam was going to say more, but he stopped when he saw the figure behind Tear.

"... Boss is behind me, isn't he?" Tear said.

"Congratulations, Tear. You've been assigned quadruple latrine duties for a month. Sir Cuam, your two weeks has been extended to two months. Carry on," Kayleth said before continuing on to his destination, the Prince's tent. Protests were ignored. Of course five thousand gold wasn't anything like the price of a glimpse of Alice. Five hundred thousand, a Barony, and blinding afterwards, and Kayleth might have considered it a fair deal.

"Kayleth," Zephiel nodded.

"Your Highness, Athielle, Murdock, Lady Brenya," Kayleth said. "We are on time. By the best estimates, we will be two days early to our destination. We will have the ships."

"Then, we'll reach Hamor," Athielle noted.

"It's just one Duchy," Zephiel said in a dismissive tone.

"Never underestimate Hamorians, Your Highness," Athielle cautioned. "A Hamorian is a professional in whatever craft he or she is in; which speaks to high base intelligence. A Hamorian is a product of centuries of survival of the fittest in a society of the fittest. Hamorians are well-motivated, because they have the most to lose. They are confident, because they know they are the best regularly trained soldiers, with the exception perhaps of Knights, humanity can put on the field. They are healthy and well-armed and armored because none of them are poor. All foreign invasions were stopped at Winterfell for a reason. Some Duchies have armies. In Hamor, armies have the Duchy."

"Hamorians also have strong leaders," Kayleth noted while pointing at a mistake Murdock had made in his letter. Murdock was shocked, and concentrated more on his work. "All of our nobles are professional warlords. Noble lines that fail to be effective rulers and war leaders cannot survive. Furthermore, there are many institutions that make Hamor strong. Church is another word for hospital and grammar school. Primary education includes basic weapons training. Merchant networks become logistical networks in wartime. City watches and town watches are professional soldiers, though they have other jobs. Highways are well-maintained. The thieves' guild trains members as spies and assassins. In conclusion, frontal attack against Hamor by attrition is suicide. The Great Sacaen Migration was stopped at Winterfell for a reason."

"Public institutions are a secondary concern," Brenya said. "The driving force behind Hamor's might is voluntary groups and individual enterprise and initiative. The state exists only to enforce competition; its public institutions are formative, yes, but in the end, Hamor is strong because of its people, its civil society. The legal requirements are just the minimum. It is the people who make it the maximum. In resources and farmland, Hamor is still very poor. The only real resource we have is humans. That is the genius of this Duchy and the source of its energy and freedom."

"I know it's the richest and most militant Duchy in Elibe, but it doesn't have the numbers to stop my army," Zephiel said.

Kayleth decided to let it go for now. What the Prince failed to recognize was that every citizen over the age of eighteen in Hamor was an experienced soldier. He would learn that as soon as he entered the realm, and found his troops slaughtered by courtesans, librarians, and shopkeepers.

Not that he'd allow such ruin to fall on the revolutionary army, of course.

* * *

Kayleth had assumed by his manner of dress, and speech, that Al's parents were one of those nobles who enjoyed teaching their children to act like a pre-Scouring noble. Some nobles simply had too much time on their hands, and Kayleth could understand a hobby like that. He enjoyed plotting the various ways in which he could stab his enemies over and over, bring them back to life, and repeat the process. Not for the first time, Kayleth regretted letting Nergal die so easily.

He found out, over the course of half an hour of wasted time, that Al's parents were just retards. Their kid couldn't even read, and his idioms were all off. His grammar was killing Kayleth; not even Bartre's grammar had come so close. He couldn't add or subtract for his life. He had no knowledge in the classics, which alone warranted execution in Kayleth's point of view. Al looked to be about eight years old, a year younger than Madelyn. Kayleth knew other Duchies' nobles were not as fervent about education as Hamorian nobles were, but this was ridiculous. That a noble's child was so ignorant, even with this amnesia business, was criminal. He had actually had the galls to ask Kayleth who Shakespeer was, the bastard.

Some eccentric nobles chose to not arm their children with basic knowledge, and that was fine, too. Kayleth suspected that Al had been trained in other things, such as tactics, historiography, music, religion, and whatnot. He could be a second or third child, after all. But no. Al's parents, who undoubtedly deserved to die a hundred times over and have their names pissed on for all eternity for the crime of being pathetic maggots, had taught him no skills. It was a wonder why the Magic Academy could ever be interested in such a worthless specimen. He had even called the Eliminean God by name, insisting that he could be called Jehovah or Allah. Kayleth was tempted to turn him over to the Church so they could execute him for gross heresy.

"Do you know if you have skills in anything?" Kayleth sighed.

"I can run!" the little bastard said with good cheer.

"Do you remember anything, anything at all, about who your parents were?"

"Umm... no."

He didn't even make good blackmail material, the worthless piece of garbage.

"Ow!"

"Eh?" Kayleth saw that Al had a paper-cut. "You'll be fine. Just a few minutes and-"

Kayleth stopped. There was no trace of the wound that had blooded Al. The tactician checked again, and there was still no sign of damage on the skin. He started to wonder whether this was why the Magic Academy would have any interest in the child, and wondered whether it was for his speed in regeneration.

"Boy, have you ever been injured before?"

Al shrugged.

There was only one way to find out. "Hold still, boy."

Kayleth's signet dagger found itself buried in the boy's hand and he screamed in pain.

"What's going on?!" Urumi rushed in.

"Urumi, sit and observe," Kayleth withdrew the dagger, cleaned it, and put it back in the sheathe.

"You stabbed an eight year old boy?!"

"For a very good reason. Shut up and observe."

After five minutes, Kayleth noted, the boy stopped bleeding.

After fifteen minutes, his hand was whole again. No trace remained of the stab-wound.

"Witchery!" Urumi hissed.

"Powers usually manifest after puberty," Kayleth shook his head, and proceeded to test another theory. He took Al's right hand and snapped it, causing fresh screaming.

"What's going on in - what the hell?" Matthew said, answering the tent.

"No, you observe, too," Kayleth pointed at the hand as he reset it.

"Observe what?"

"This child had his hand punctured by a knife twenty minutes ago," Kayleth said. "I think this is why the Magic Academy had an interest in acquiring this specimen."

Al was understandably trembling in his seat, watching Kayleth warily. He had not dared run yet, though. Kayleth thought it might indicate superior animal sense of threat. The boy knew he'd never escape.

Kayleth and company waited, having nothing particularly more pressing to do and fascinated by the boy's regenerative capabilities.

An hour had passed, by the reckoning of Kayleth's timepiece, and he slapped Al's hand. He winced, but did not react to it as if it were still broken.

"Now I understand what the Magic Academy saw in this child," Kayleth grinned, his mind spinning with the possibilities and coming to a conclusion. "Urumi. New assignment. Have Nino teach the boy letters, he's illiterate. Have Lucius teach him basic theology. You teach him numbers. I'll have Murdock see what kind of a weapon would be good for him."

"What for?" Urumi said. For all her attention to detail, she had an infuriating inability to piece together a greater scheme.

"Just about Madelyn's age," Kayleth pointed at Al. Then she understood.

"You've done very well, Al, and I apologize for having had to hurt you," Kayleth patted him on the head, confusing the child. "Urumi will get you breakfast. Eat up, and grow strong. Run along, now."

Al answered in some archaic form of gratitude that grated on Kayleth's nerves, and ran to Urumi. It seemed that he had gotten over the shock quite well.

"So... what is your plan for him?" Matthew asked.

"Isn't it obvious? Similar age, ripe for indoctrination, and young enough to begin weapons training early. I'm raising a butler for my children."

"Butler, huh?" Matthew looked doubtful.

"Yes, yes... for what butler could call himself a butler when he has failed to defend his masters or die trying?"

"Hmm... that means they'll be hitting puberty at a similar age, too, you know?"

"By which time, I'll have indoctrinated the ability to even dream about it out of him. This is Elibe. It rarely gives me perfect material to work with," Kayleth shrugged. "His regenerative abilities should offset his being the wrong sex."

* * *

"Ashe," Kayleth greeted the purple-haired pirate, who was bowing as performers would at the end of their show.

On the prow of her ship.

The ship was on the ground.

Zephiel's army had to cross a river in order to get to Hamor and then the capital and the Inner Duchies. That said, they had no warships on that river, and the mouth of the river that led to the sea was blocked off by fortifications designed to fend off pirate raids. The only bridge in the area was guarded by the legendary floating fortress of the Outer Duchies, a cluster of warships chained together to provide a relatively stable firing solution for arrows and siege engines that cluttered the decks of those warships.

It was actually built to keep Hamorians out of the Outer Duchies. In times of foreign invasion though, its role could be reversed.

The floating fortress was the pinnacle of naval combat in any conventional sense. It provided a stable weapons platform for siege engines and archers while any enemy launching boarding attacks against it was laughable. In case of fire or severe structural damage, the individual ships could be unchained from the greater mass of the fortress.

Fortunately, the relatively small stretch of land leading from the southern seas to the river was a flat plain occupied by nobility loyal to Zephiel. Kayleth did not want to waste resources assaulting the fortifications guarding the entrance to the river, which were owned and garrisoned by the Crown. So he simply had the pirates, ever since the war had started, use logs as wheels to drag the ships to where he wanted them.

As far as he knew, it had only been done once in human history, during the times of the Scouring.

Zephiel's armies watched in awe as seafaring ships sailed across the land and plopped into the river. Wyvern Knights had been assisting in the operation for a few days now and were not as awed by the scale of human effort in this endeavor.

Ashe jumped and dropped in front of her husband, Cale, for a reunion that had more public displays of affection than Kayleth cared to comment on. Many noblemen appreciated the bouncing effect of her particularly well-endowed chest: biggest of any of Kayleth's employees, in fact, and he had in his employ a small army of courtesans. Kayleth had hired her for an entirely different reason, that being her connection to her former pirate fleet. Former because she moved to Sacae with her husband.

Still, she enjoyed a considerable influence among the pirates of Elibe. She stayed at Seventh Heaven because Cale was also employed there, and Cale's father had yet to die and necessitate his taking control of the daily affairs of the Satsuma.

"You're early. That'll be reflected in the end of the month bonus," Kayleth said, undoubtedly doing nothing to scatter the attentions of his peers on the jiggling physics of her chest. She had failed to don underwear, again. That would be reflected in the end of the month pay cuts, however entertaining it was to observe others watch. Some of his fellow scholars made a living studying such things as a matter of psychology.

"I aim to please," Ashe chuckled.

"Tell your people that they are to follow my orders, without question. Lyn is in heat and I am busy. See to her needs."

"I already did the former," Ashe said, licking her lips in anticipation.

"Good. That'll also be reflected in the end of the month bonus. Loyalists gave you any trouble?"

"I think they saw us move the ships. Your father sent a messenger to me."

"What did he say?"

"Surrender, with your family, and bring Prince Zephiel's head if you can. Amnesty will be granted."

"I trust you sent him an appropriate response?"

"I didn't know about how strong you wanted the message to be, so I went all out. All the heads we'd collected from the battle with the Home Fleet have been sent back with the messenger."

"Good work as always. Ten out of ten."

Ashe spoke in a lower tone so that she wouldn't be heard. "We've spent a lot of arrows and ammunition for siege engines during that battle, though. I know you wanted the ships here but how will you win with no arrows?"

Because of the infamous unreliability of siege engines (to hit anything with a catapult was considered a minor miracle unless it was a battle between large fleets), naval combat depended chiefly on arrows, boarding actions, and ramming. Ramming was disfavored because of how cost prohibitive it was; one or both of the ships sank, bad for business. Boarding actions were disfavored because of the advantage defenders had unless the attackers had overwhelming numbers. Despite its huge payoff, for both of the ships would remain floating, it was a huge risk.

The favored method of killing navies was to throw as many arrows and ballistae bolt at the enemy ships as possible and hope the enemies died. Then, one could board with caution.

Arrows were time-consuming to make while the demand was overwhelming. The price of a bundle of well-made arrows came to rival the cost of a well-made steel sword.

"I don't intend to win with no arrows."

"You have them?"

"Yes, and our enemies will give them to me."

* * *

It soon became apparent why Kayleth wanted Zephiel's army and the pirate ships to reach the river by a specific date.

At that time of the year, thick fogs and mists covered the landscape around the area. A light drizzle accompanied this phenomenon. Poets wrote about it for ages, citing the serene mysticism it gave these parts of the mighty river, Danube.

The tactician didn't know any of those poems but he could appreciate it from a strategic perspective. With visibility at a minimum accompanied by constant rain, it was a nightmare to move troops around.

Kayleth, Brenya, Murdock, Athielle, and Ashe were holed up in the captain's cabin of the flagship, _Three Bottles._ Quite appropriate considering the number of bottles they had with them.

"Start the drums!" Kayleth shouted before shutting the door.

"Is it really, umm… safe, to put five of the highest of our military hierarchy in this one ship?" Brenya asked.

"Never been in naval combat before, Lady Brenya?" Murdock asked, taking the bottle to pour some whiskey in Kayleth's cup. Kayleth pointed at Ashe's cup first. She was by far the heavier drinker, though Kayleth was a modest drinker at best. It was also her ship and her liquor.

Pirates who didn't know how to hold their liquor did not fare well in the seas. Coming from a long line of pirates, Ashe had a liver made of iron, and as far as Kayleth could tell, that liver transformed the liquor into fat for her breasts. Seriously, one had to see her chest to believe it.

"Never had a need to. Our merchant convoys are protected by the pirates. It's curious that the Baron seems to be so experienced in it."

Kayleth raised an eyebrow.

"Then again, it's not," Brenya conceded.

"War is my passion and my profession. I would be remiss to not study all of it. I would have to be executed for dereliction of duty to not experience every aspect of it. But in answer to your question, completely safe."

"How so?"

"First, we're in the captain's quarters, safest part of the ship," Ashe said, pouring a drink Kayleth. "Second, the cover of the fog gives the enemy terrible ideas about where to direct their artillery fire. Third, even if they knew where to direct their artillery fire, almost none would hit us."

"Because our fleet is too small," Murdock said as he poured drinks for Brenya and himself.

Ashe continued after draining her cup. "Fourth, our ships have extra wooden shields and haystacks for their arrows. Fifth, it's too wet for them to attack with fire. In short, the only way they could harm us is with boarding action."

"And their floating fortress is too slow to engage us for boarding action. While a sound idea in cutting off access to the bridge and the immediate operational area of the fortress, it is practically useless in terms of speed," Athielle added, filling up her own cup.

"By the end of this 'battle', we'll have made the enemy waste thousands of arrows, ballistae rounds, and ammunition for other siege engines. Meanwhile, we'll recover a significant portion of those thousands of arrows amidst the hay we covered our ships in," Murdock said, refilling Ashe's cup.

"At which time, we will launch a small boat with a letter from me to the commander of that floating fortress thanking them for the arrows."

"So… why am I here?" Brenya was puzzled. This had nothing to do with her area of expertise and the 'battle' seemed to be in good hands, theoretically.

"Why, to play cards, of course! It'd hardly do to rob His Highness of all his gold, my wife and sister have no interest in cards, and General Vaida is busy preparing the second part of this operation," Kayleth smirked, shuffling the cards.

"Watch him, he cheats!" Murdock noted it as if it was serious business.

"Boss, you have to drink more before you're allowed to play," Ashe snapped, forcing a bottle into Kayleth's hands.

"It's not cheating to use natural skills in observation!" Kayleth argued.

"Natural skills, my ass! There's nothing natural about it and you know it!" Athielle shouted.

"Fine, fine, will three cups do?"

"Five!" Murdock called.

"Come on!" Kayleth growled. "Four!"

"Four sounds reasonable," Ashe shrugged. "I'm watching. No spilling like last time!"

"So he does that with you, too?" Murdock said, delighted to find a partner in suffering.

"First time we played, robbed me and several of my work friends half the end of the month bonus! Then I found out about his 'education'! Apparently he's been trained to lie since he was five! And he uses math!" Ashe was equally pleased to find a partner in suffering with whom she could swap stories.

"Didn't hit his stride until he was twelve, I think. After that, he was a terror in cards. He actually placed mirrors in his room so he could see our cards!" Athielle supplied the two with more information.

"Lady Brenya, I assure you I am a perfect gentleman in-"

Fierce catcalling and boos drowned out Kayleth's defense.

Brenya wondered how they were ever going to win this war, and resigned herself to her fate. She also had training as a judge, after all, and was a good hand at discerning truth from falsehood.

Using her perspective, she quickly came to realize that the only reason she was invited was so they could take her for all she was worth.

* * *

Two days later, the fog had cleared, and Kayleth and the revolutionary army's military hierarchy waited for night to fall and the winds to change.

The tactician was watching the flag, blowing westwards as was appropriate.

Trade winds had a set pattern that could be observed and analyzed over the centuries. Kayleth knew that the trade winds would change at any moment, and the change would be violent.

What most other mortals, before he informed them, failed to recognize was the military application of such an endeavor in this particular circumstance.

Fires were not practical in naval combat because the material used to make fire was hazardous to one's own ships. Furthermore, the vessel was in a body of water. It was simple enough to take the fire out before it did great harm.

However, that wasn't the case when the tides were low and the winds were strong.

It was doubly not so when the target was a 'floating fortress' which was essentially an armada of ships connected by steel chains.

With strong winds, fire would spread from ship to ship before they could disconnect the steel chains. Furthermore, the trade wind was about to change from its westerly course to an easterly one. The tactician thanked God, Mother Earth, Father Sky, the Eight Heroes, the elder gods, and whatnot that the winds changed at night. There would've been many more casualties during the day.

Kayleth just had to figure out a way to set fire to the front row of the ships. Nature and geography would do the rest of his job.

The flag, billowing in the wind, drooped as the wind died.

As Kayleth knew, and hoped, the flag billowed in the wind again, but in the opposite direction it had been a few seconds ago.

Five ships filled to the brim with dry hay and oil raised their sails, and the now easterly trade winds obliged in speeding them directly into the heart of the vaunted 'floating fortress'.

When the enemy's sentries noticed those ships, it was already too late.

"All forces, stand by. General Vaida, into the skies," Kayleth transmitted with his communications stones.

Thousands of fire arrows leapt out from the floating fortress, striking the ships. The ships, naturally, caught fire, but the winds were strong enough that they were upon the floating fortress within half a minute.

Chaos struck the enemies as dry hay, oil, and fire spilled into the front ranks of their ships. Through his spyglass, Kayleth could see figures scurrying about, frantically trying to sever the chains that kept the ships connected.

The winds were too unforgiving to care for the paltry efforts of the humans. Crewmen stampeded each other to get to the next row of ships.

The fire provided the coordinates for Vaida's fliers, hidden amongst the clouds and the darkness of the night.

Cauldrons full of whale oil were dropped on the floating fortress. The Ilians, the whale hunters at any rate, might even get fat this year. Fearful of losing all supplies of oil, Kayleth had also included strong liquor in the mix of chemicals to encourage the fire.

"All ships, into the fray. All Legions at the bridge, cross the bridge. All Legions surrounding the town, take the town and force the survivors to surrender."

The drums beat as ten remaining pirate ships came in from the sides, launching arrows and ballistae rounds into the confused ranks of the defenders. Trying to untie the chains was difficult under normal circumstances. It was nigh impossible when under attack.

The crewmen eventually gave up all pretenses at battle and abandoned ship, swimming to the shores. They only found themselves surrounded by the troops who had been ferried by wyverns into the hills beyond the town that harbored the floating fortress. Furthermore, the troops crossing the bridge were flooding in to reinforce their vanguard. Wyvern Knights hovered over them and pirate vessels intercepted stragglers who had planned to escape downstream.

The battle for the floating fortress was a horrible disappointment for Kayleth. After the Prince secured the throne, he'd make sure someone more competent oversaw the command of the second iteration of it. It reinforced his beliefs in the King's incompetence, and he was glad that he had the chance to end it before Bern was damaged even further.

* * *

With the floating fortress gone, the Outer Duchies were practically under the complete control of the Prince and nobles loyal to him.

Only one Duchy remained between the revolutionary army and the capital.

Unfortunately, that Duchy was the wealthiest and most militant Duchy in all of Elibe.

Whether Kayleth could wrest control of it, and whether Alice could charm enough of its population into following her would decide the outcome of the revolution.

"Kayleth, some people want to talk to you," Alice informed.

"He's brooding, again," Lyn was worried that returning to his homeland was throwing Kayleth off his game.

"Ah, Duchess Alice," the elderly Duke Joseph greeted.

"How accurate are these estimates, Your Grace?" Kayleth asked.

"I'm not sure. There could have been some mistakes, of course, but the estimates probably won't be far off the mark."

"What's the problem?" Alice asked.

"The Inner Duchies are gathering their strength more quickly than we had anticipated. Within two months, all of their Legions will be assembled at Winterfell. We must conquer Hamor within six weeks to use its resources against them."

"Six weeks?! Even if-"

"Two of the lowlands Counties, including Ashwick, will join us if we break through the blockade of Vicary's mercenary Legion," Kayleth said.

"Aunt Teletha is declaring support for me?"

"According to her letter," Kayleth shrugged. "I will take precautions against treachery, of course. What worries me more is Vicary's Legion."

"Who's Vicary?" Lyn asked.

"My caretaker during my training as tactician and heir. Currently leader of the most successful Hamorian mercenary company in this era."

"Just one? We have over seventeen!" Lyn snorted.

"... Clearly you do not understand what that means, Marchioness," Duke Wencen said. "It is a Hamorian mercenary company. It means there are two hundred highlanders in that group, perhaps a few less due to recent losses."

"So?"

"Hamor has no resources other than its people, Lady Lyndis," Joseph explained, realizing that she knew practically nothing of her husband's society. "Suffice to say, it is the most militant Duchy in all of Elibe and one Hamorian Legion is easily worth three regular Legions."

"It is the kind of place that produces people like Lord Kayleth and General Murdock," Wencen added. "Hamor fields no weak soldiers. Why? Because the weak have all died. We will lose many soldiers in the next battle."

"What is it that makes the Duchy so, erm... feared?" Lyn said, worried about the looks the Dukes Joseph and Wencen had. If her brief rule in Caelin was any indication, it was difficult to get any leader of a realm to admit the relative strength of another state.

"Never underestimate a Hamorian, Marchioness," Sigismund said. The chancellor had returned from his diplomatic mission in Hamor, and was a Hamorian himself. "A Hamorian is a professional in whatever craft he or she is in; which speaks to high base intelligence. A Hamorian is a product of centuries of survival of the fittest in a society of the fittest. Hamorians are well-motivated, because they have the most to lose. They are confident, because they know they are the best regularly trained soldiers, with the exception perhaps of Knights, humanity can put on the field. They are healthy and well-armed and armored because none of them are poor. All foreign invasions were stopped at Winterfell for a reason. Some Duchies have armies. In Hamor, armies have the Duchy."

"Hamorians also have strong leaders," Kayleth noted. "All of our nobles are professional warlords. Noble lines that fail to be effective rulers and war leaders cannot survive. Furthermore, there are many institutions that make Hamor strong. Church is another word for hospital. Primary education includes basic weapons training. Merchant networks become logistical networks in wartime. City watches and town watches are professional soldiers, though they have other jobs. Highways are well-maintained. The thieves' guild trains members as spies and assassins. In conclusion, a conventional frontal attack against Hamor is suicide."

"Public institutions are a secondary concern," Brenya said, while not entirely skeptical of the others' explanations. "The driving force behind Hamor's might is voluntary groups, individual enterprise, and free initiative. The state exists only to enforce competition; its public institutions are formative, yes, but in the end, Hamor is strong because of its people, its civil society. The legal requirements are just the minimum. It is the people who make it the maximum. In resources and farmland, Hamor is still very poor. The only real resource we have is humans. That is the genius of this Duchy and the source of its energy and freedom. That is why all Hamorians despise autocracy without good leadership."

"But you shouldn't worry, Lyn. Hamorians are free to choose sides among the family members of the Duke's House. I believe many nobles would flock to Alice's banner if we kill my father's agents. You see, the people of my Duchy do not forgive incompetence, and they know the King is an incompetent imbecile," Kayleth's smile widened. "And my people know of only one punishment for criminal incompetence in the nobility and the royalty, with varying degrees of pain."

* * *

Next chapter will explain more about what kind of civilization Hamor is. That basically serves one purpose: to explain why Kayleth is like Kayleth. As you can probably tell, it's not a society where you circle around the fire and sing kumbaya.

* * *

Omake

Kayleth felt himself pulled into the rift that led to reality.

A reality in an alternate dimension and a wholly unfamiliar planet, though he thought he recognized the place based on what some of the other spirits had told him.

He appeared in a shack, and something filled him with all the knowledge that was necessary.

Kayleth had been summoned to wage war once more.

It was a shack with broken piles of junk that Kayleth did not recognize.

There was the ritual circle used to summon him.

Kayleth's eyes fell upon a red-haired youth in ludicrous clothing. He could see the shock in the youth's eyes. He obviously had no idea what he had just summoned.

He had been summoned as the servant Rider in the 5th Holy Grail War, and his master was obviously a retard of the highest caliber.

"Why are all redheads I meet that way?" Kayleth sighed as he tested his powers. He recognized Elaine, for which he was eternally grateful to the Grail, though he could not shake off the suspicion that something was wrong with these wars.

"_Why did no one win_?"

"Well, it seems that you're my master," Kayleth said, showing deference he did not feel and obedience he had no intention of acting on. If it wasn't for the command seals, he would've killed the youth for a more suitable partner. He had no idea what he was talking about. Kayleth despised working with incompetents.

Not that he had a particular wish, anyways. For now, if he won the war, he would wish for two sugar glazed and no sprinklings doughnuts. One for him and one for Pearl when he got back.

That was changed to two dozen doughnuts. His daughter had a sweet tooth that no one he had ever met matched, and he lived for a long, long time. From his birth to the end of humanity, as a matter of fact.

The end of humanity had a good ending, so he wouldn't bother with that. For now, doughnuts they were.

Elaine purred at his touch, before snapping at the idiot who was taking ways too long to answer. He pondered the wisdom of having her kill him.

A man in form-tight blue armor burst through the cabin, wielding a blood-red spear.

Kayleth knew instinctively that he had no chance up close. In the millions of years of his existence he had never learnt to use melee weapons.

Elaine, however, could give any warrior a run for his or her money.

"That was rude of you, Servant Lancer. I'm not even acquainted with my master yet."

"Hmph. A wyvern, huh? Well-met, Servant Rider," the spearman said, before he charged.

It did not seem like his 'master' would provide him prana any time soon, so Kayleth did what he did best. He cheated.

The Grail was crazy if it thought it could prevent him from using his treasury, among which were many artifacts that had a stored amount of fixed prana.

It just took a moment to search through it. Kayleth was never a man to clean after himself, and none of the servants he had over the years were with him.

"Elaine, hold him," Kayleth said. If Elaine failed, he had many other creatures and machines to replace her. It'd be annoying to use more noble phantasms than he had already, but those were nowhere near as cost-heavy as his ultimate noble phantasm was. "You there, help me find this blue pendant, about yay size."

The youth was still being useless, so he had to drag the boy into his treasury. He normally wouldn't let anyone but Pearl in there but this man seemed too retarded to steal anything.

After two minutes or so, Kayleth finally found what he was looking for, a pair of plain silver rings and a staff. Not the object he was really looking for but enough for his purposes. Kayleth hauled the youth and himself out.

Both Elaine and the servant Lancer were bleeding from multiple cuts.

Elaine's heart was destroyed. Kayleth assumed that it was the Servant Lancer's noble phantasm. Fortunately, it was only her secondary heart. Still, it would be deadly against him. The surface above the heart was unharmed, so he assumed that the noble phantasm could slip through defenses.

"Congratulations, Lancer. You destroyed her secondary heart," Kayleth said to the bleeding man. "Now, I have no doubt that you are very dangerous in your own right. However, I have a noble phantasm that will destroy you without any difficulty whatsoever. Problem is, huge prana requirements, and it is oh so annoying to have to recharge my prana through less than ethical means, like killing everyone in this city. So, would you please retreat?"

The man looked intrigued more than fearful. It seemed that retardation was a common genetic defect on this planet.

Actually, it seemed that the man knew how much danger he could be in. He just was fighting for the sake of the fight.

Kayleth's first mistake in this war, to assume Lancer to be a rational human being.

He sighed as he activated the rings, which filled him with prana, and then activated his ultimate noble phantasm.

"A reality marble?" the Lancer's eyes glinted with joy. He looked upon the hundreds of thousands of warriors that stood behind Kayleth.

"I'm not really a Rider, you see," Kayleth explained. "I was a general for most of my life, and I had a very, very long and tiring life. These," Kayleth gestured at the warriors behind him, "are the who knows how many trillions of men I commanded in my lifetime."

"It'll be a pleasure to kill them all," Lancer killed two of the warriors closest to him in a heartbeat.

"That might be harder than you think," Kayleth said, pointing at the sky.

Lancer had no idea what it was, so Kayleth assumed that he was from the more barbaric times of humanity's existence.

"Commence orbital bombardment," Kayleth told the captains of the capital ships flying overhead.

Kayleth and his soldiers looked away to avoid being blinded by the swathes of plasma that bombarded Lancer's position.

"No sign of life," Jaffar said.

Kayleth dispelled the reality marble, and found himself in front of the red-haired youth once again.

"Well, that was troubling," Kayleth said, referring to his prana usage. He reached into the treasury again, and finally found what he was looking for beneath the various equipment he used for bondage.

He then detected another Servant nearby.

"Grail War, Servant, Master," Kayleth said slowly, hoping the retard could make sense of what he was saying. "One more servant out there. I kill. Understand?"

The retard had no idea what he was talking about. He thought he might have to cut his losses and side with Lancer's master, or the master of the servant outside he was about to kill. Still, retards were relatively easier to manipulate. He'd have to kidnap the masters and see which one would give him the greatest chance at victory.

He wondered whether two dozen doughnuts were worth it. Maybe he'd wish for something more fitting, like a cake. The cake was not a lie.


	6. Old Friends and New Enemies

Warning: This chapter contains a lot of exposition to explain what kind of a civilization Hamor has and consequently raised people like Kayleth. If you're interested, start with the last horizontal line downwards and then come back to the first.

If you're not interested, the simple version is: artificially generated selection pressures kill off the weak and produce people like Kayleth.

* * *

Alice hissed in pain as the knife cut into her finger again.

Kitchen work was a great deal more difficult than she had expected. Nino sighed as she used a healing staff on Alice for the twentieth time in the last five minutes.

"... Maybe we should get her back on boiling water or something. Surely she's boiled water before?" Asteion reasoned with Nino.

"I'm right here," Alice growled.

"No, I doubt she's ever done that," Nino shook her head as she confiscated the knife.

"My Alice's body is getting damaged," Tear whimpered. "Get her out of the kitchen!"

"Kayleth is a god damned bastard! So heartless! How can he put Alice at risk of wear and tear?!" Ashe agreed.

"It's just cooking. I can do this," Alice said, not convincing anyone, including herself.

"How about sorting potatoes?" Rebecca suggested, reluctant to have Alice spoil all of the preparations for dinner.

"Sure, because she can tell the difference between healthy ones and rotten ones."

"Why did Kayleth assign her chores in the first place? It makes no sense! He never does any, says it's beneath him!"

Alice's head started to ache. These chores Kayleth had assigned her had done nothing but to confirm her beliefs about commoners' lives: that they were petty and depressingly boring.

"I'm not some doll, I can cut onions, and get back to work!" Alice shouted, silencing everyone who was arguing over what to make her do.

Surprisingly enough, everyone did just what she told them to do.

"Why's everyone doing what I told them to do?" Alice whispered to Ashe, who jumped out of fright and realized it was only Alice.

"Your angry voice sounded a lot like Kayleth's," Ashe shuddered. "Don't do that again."

"It was like boss," Tear mused out loud. "But without the death glare and the effect was different. I think I felt guilty. It's been a while since I've felt that. By the way, boss gave me quadruple latrine duties, so you now have eight times the normal latrine duties. Unless, of course, you're willing to buy my services in exchange for a little experimentation."

Alice was dumbfounded that her brother could make such a mistake. "Never! You'll do it or I'll try to use my angry voice again."

"Doubt you can pull it off artificially."

"... Fine, but you'll tell me what you're going to try first, and I'm going to make the soup."

Kayleth was not amused by the soup that night, and assigned yet more laundry duties for Alice and the kitchen crew for failing to restrain her.

* * *

"We outnumber them twenty five to one. Why don't we attack?" Zephiel demanded. "Time is of the essence."

"This is different from the outer Duchies, Your Highness," Sigismund said, sounding like, for all intents and purposes, a teacher mildly scolding a particularly slow boy. "This is Hamor. This is a different story altogether."

"Aren't the poor and the oppressed willing to rise against the King?"

Alice answered, "Your Highness, no Hamorian is poor. No Hamorian is oppressed. It is law. Law is enforced."

"Surely there are some poor people in every Duchy?" Zephiel asked. The poor were the most fervent supporters of the revolution thus far. "Even a Duchy as wealthy as Hamor is."

"In Hamor, that is not so, and for good reason," Kayleth answered while scrutinizing a compilation of maps. "Every year the Duke decrees, in no uncertain terms, the minimum of gold that a Hamorian over the age of twenty one is supposed to generate. A Hamorian will meet that requirement, or be exiled." Kayleth looked up and smirked. "Even Murdock, low-blooded though and stupid as he is, met that requirement."

"I am flattered, my Lord." Murdock rolled his eyes. "But that is in essence true, Your Highness. Every Hamorian is required to complete basic education from age eight to thirteen. Every Hamorian is required to be apprenticed, in some form, from age thirteen to eighteen. There are no amateurs in Hamor. Our Duchy only breeds professionals. There are tests for every specialization. If you wish to live in Hamor, you are told in no uncertain terms to pass at least one. Nobles are required to have at least two professional degrees and pass the general education exam, due to their better education. "

"And brains, you peasant!" Kayleth said with a wide grin.

"Ah, and nobles who fail that requirement are sentenced to death. Incompetence in commoners is intolerable. Incompetence in nobility is considered a capital offense," Murdock added, looking pointedly at Kayleth. "Nobles represent significant investment on the part of the state. There must be at least minimal returns for that investment. To fail that minimum is stealing and betraying the state."

"How can such a policy be put in practice?!" Zephiel exclaimed, knowing all too well the problem of inherited leadership; bad apples like his own father popped up.

"Hamor is poor in resources and it is highly mountainous. It was the poorest Duchy in all of Elibe until seven centuries ago." Kayleth gestured to one of the attendants to move some of the pieces on the map. "In the end, the people had a choice. Leave, and lose their home, or fight and conquer. How did puny humans defeat dragons? By adapting. Some people adapted. Those who couldn't died. We are the descendants of the former, and I say good riddance to the latter."

Sigismund explained further, "Our third Duke was tired of seeing his subjects live in poverty. He came to realize that those who were too concerned with fulfilling basic needs were hardly living as humans, just scraping by. That was not the life that was promised to us at the end of the Scouring. That was not the life we were promised and had sacrificed hundreds of thousands for. Since Hamor has few resources and poor farmland, he decided that specialization and strength were the answers. There were great hardships at first. Even priests of Elimine became government functionaries. Eventually, the people of Hamor did what humans do best. They adapted. As Hamorians adapted, weakness was bred out of them. As a Duchy, Hamor is now the greatest per capita producer of knowledge and wealth in all of Elibe."

Murdock shifted in his seat, having read the report handed to him. "Of course, it was quickly discovered that telling people to produce more without teaching them how or providing them the means to was human idiocy at its worst. To remedy that, the treasuries were emptied and luxury goods and furniture sold to finance infrastructure for education, production, and trade. There were many rebellions, mostly by nobles who naturally had the most to lose, and they were put down brutally. Laws requiring Hamorians to become professionals and whatnot followed soon after."

"We have some things no other Duchy has," Kayleth stated. "Infinite competition, hard science, informed autonomy, medicine, consumerism, and civic ethics."

"What degrees do you have?" Zephiel asked Murdock.

"I'm a qualified lumberjack, though I had to do with professional soldiering and axecraft; my father was a carpenter so I thought I'd learn the trade after soldiering, but I became too successful in soldiering. Lady Brenya, I believe, has degrees in poetry, administrative law, battlefield magecraft, and tactics. Lord Sigismund has degrees in logistics, mathematics, commercial law, and oration. Kayleth has degrees in statecraft, logical reasoning, tactics, social science, and the violin. I assume Lady Alice would qualify in wyvern mastery, swordcraft, and the piano."

"Alice would also qualify at statecraft and classics," Kayleth gushed. "She's also very pretty. It should be a crime to be so cute and good at everything."

"… You look too proud," Sigismund noted.

"But I'm very proud. How can I not be proud?" Kayleth frowned, mortifying Alice further.

"Those things count a profession degrees?" Zephiel snorted. "You could hardly make any gold with-"

"In other Duchies, yes. But Hamor is the wealthiest Duchy. Surplus wealth generates luxury, luxury generates culture, culture advances civilization, it is the basics of social science," Kayleth cut him off, while waving at an attendant to go take care of a logistical problem having something to do with there not being enough horses for the passage through the mountains. Wyverns Knights were to be conscripted to carry supplies and five nearby villages were to be stripped of horses, on 'loan'. "Lady Brenya, for instance, could be a judge or a research mage. Sigismund could be an accountant or a diplomat. I could be an investigator. Alice could be a Wyvern Knight or a pianist."

"What happens at age eighteen?" Lyn asked. She had no interest in matters of statecraft but it was about Kayleth and Alice. Lyn did not like what was being said of this civilization.

"Lowlanders, those who are of the periphery Counties of the Duchy, serve in the army at the borders and accompany our merchant caravans. Highlanders, those who are from the Counties, serve as mercenaries. Service applies to all men and women, three years." Murdock shuddered involuntarily at the memory of his early days. "If you survive, you are given another three years to complete your apprenticeship and take your place in society. People who fail to do so can continue to live in Hamor by serving in its mercenary companies. Few fail, though."

"Even women serve in the army?"

"We take precautions, of course," Kayleth said. "Hamorian women are being well-fed and well-bred, due to centuries of natural selection, and thus are typically larger and stronger than one would expect of women. Alice is an exception, because she was given an Angelic Robe when she was six and direly ill. However, it is true that wombs are the most important societal resources. They serve in positions with the least casualty rates: archers, magi, heavily armored spears or swords, heavy cavalry, etc. Archers and magi are in the back, so it's safest. Doesn't take much to poke out with spears or swords while surviving behind thick armor and lined shields. Female cavaliers gain more in acceleration to make up for their relative lightness, and it takes a disciplined line of infantry to stop a cavalry charge. Besides, they're usually in the second row."

"Highlanders are the core of the Duchy, having been under the rule of Winterfell the longest," Brenya continued to explain from where Murdock had left off. "Since Hamor is a system in which weakness cannot survive, highlanders have been bred tough the longest. They conquered most of the lowlands, which were two other Duchies, by about six centuries ago. Nearly a third of the Praetorians are highlanders. A fifth of the Praetorians are lowlanders. There are twice as many lowlanders as there are highlanders. As such, highlanders are sent out in mercenary companies abroad to protect Hamorian trade. The policy has been instituted for seven centuries. Any bandit knows better than to risk raiding a caravan bearing the Hamorian flag, if he wishes to live."

"If the bandits don't attack, what's the point of sending them out?" Zephiel said.

"Some people are born stupid, and some are just insane," Kayleth shrugged. "Got to show that even those will be hunted down and killed if they touch our property, which is a sacred right. When there are no bandits to hunt, Hamorian mercenary companies are hired out by Etrurian, Lycian, or Bernese nobles. Only for large-scale conflicts, of course, since they're very expensive. Captains of mercenary companies are required to take jobs that benefit and at the least do not harm the Duchy."

Sigismund finished the document he was working on, and added, "Mercenary companies also regularly abduct or capture leading intellectuals, good warriors, and famed craftsmen. They are sent to Hamor to introduce diversity into the bloodlines or at the very least teach their craft to Hamorians. Often, they just settle in Hamor. Standard of living is better, after all, and enough men die in wars that there are enough women to spare for special occasions; women especially like to settle in Hamor, since they're treated better in Hamor than they could hope for anywhere else. Otherwise, they are sent back home with payment for their services."

"Would that not give lowlanders license to invade highlander lands, since many highlanders are abroad?" Zephiel said.

"No. Lowlanders are not allowed to fight highlanders and vice versa. Too many casualties, for the lowlanders that is: inefficient. They fight each other on occasion and sometimes the Duke leads expeditions against other Duchies for population control," Kayleth answered. "Still, all Hamorians are veterans, and products of centuries of survival of the fittest. Lowlanders are quality troops compared to the, pardon me, errant garbage that makes up most of Bern's, Etruria's, and Lycia's Legions. We cannot afford to take lowlanders in direct battle. We must never face highlander Legions or Hamor's knightly Legions in the field."

"Despite having fourteenth of Bern's population, a fifth of the professional standing Bernese Legions at any given time are Hamorian," Brenya nodded. "In any kind of an internal power struggle in Bern, the power of the Lord of Winterfell is decisive. Until now, all Hamorian Dukes stood with the King of Bern. We are lucky that this is an issue in which the Duchy is divided. All Hamorians are loyal to the Ducal family, yes, but if we judge someone else to be a better candidate for the throne in Winterfell, we are allowed to pick sides within the family. The Ducal family is no exception to survival of the fittest."

"Which is why we must set up Alice as Duchess as soon as possible, and kill my parents as soon as possible," Kayleth moved the pieces representing Zephiel's Legions on the map, a horde of blue stopped by one crimson. "Then, there will be no division within the Duchy and the Legions of Hamor will be yours to command, Your Highness."

"But back to the point, surely a gathering of town watches and some Knights does not count as Legions? We should march, tomorrow."

"As everyone was saying, Your Highness, a 'gathering of town watches' in Hamor is worth a gathering of Knights of other Duchies," Sigismund said. "Worth even more if you count only the highlanders. Everyone over the age of eighteen is armed and armored. Everyone over the age of twenty one has been to battle at least three times."

"I can't believe we're arguing over crushing an army of maids, shopkeepers, and craftsmen!" Zephiel snarled.

"… Were your maids not Hamorians, Your Highness?" Alice asked.

"Now that I think about it, yes." Zephiel frowned, "Now that I think about it, all of them were, and are."

"It is difficult to qualify as a Hamorian maid, Your Highness," Alice continued. "To be a professional maid is to be a bodyguard, cleaner, cook, food-tester for poisons, governess, nurse, rodent-exterminator, and seamstress. A handful pass the examination. Hamorian maids are status symbols and bodyguards for foreign nobles. Do you not wonder why it took the Black Fang so long to infiltrate your home all those years ago? It was time bought by your guards, too, probably, but I suspect it took them more time to kill the maids than it did to kill the guards. Never look down on Hamorian maids, Your Highness. They will kill you."

"Do you have a solution, then?" Zephiel growled. "What is the point of an army if it's not used? What is the point of invading a Duchy that is apparently unconquerable?!"

"Ingenuity, of course, and the unexpected. Hamorians are pragmatists if nothing else. I have strong reason to believe many of the lowlanders will fall under Alice's banner if we just pass this gorge. The King has been making a mess of the country for quite a while now, and I know many are inclined to take arms against him if only the rest of the Duchy would follow. Hamorians are not slaves; they'll follow you if they think the benefits of your early enthronement outweigh the costs of this war, and they have a deep-seated aversion to incompetence."

"You can't reason with Vicary? You served with him for years." Sigismund was agitated at the prospect of fighting one of Hamor's mercenary companies.

"His children are at Winterfell. Vicary will hold the gorge until lowlander reinforcements arrive, at all cost. It's a shame," Kayleth sighed. "He is a damned good captain. His company is one of the best of Hamor."

"We have one decisive advantage they don't know we have, though," Murdock noted. "Vicary's can hold us at bay only because they are being assaulted from one side. We have many Wyvern Knights. He has few if any. There is no way he can be prepared for that. He is used to having Wyvern Knights on his side. That is not the case here."

"… Good job, pea-brains!" Kayleth exclaimed. "That is the unexpected element! Your Highness, we will pass the gorge by tomorrow evening!"

Murdock rolled his eyes. "What does that say about your brains?"

"Still, if Vicary's company decides to hold out, there will be many casualties," Brenya said, moving towards the maps and pointing at the warlord chess piece at the gorge. "We need to take him before the lowlanders arrive to reinforce him, which would jeopardize our own flanking troops. We need a better plan. We need to rain death from above."

"Our agents report that Vicary's company has recently requisitioned reinforcements," Sigismund handed a scroll to Kayleth.

"That was nothing unexpected," Kayleth waved the scroll away. "It's a Hamorian mercenary company, full of highlanders. It's Vicary's, the left hand of the Hawk. I never said this would occur without casualties. It's a matter of minimizing them."

* * *

Prince Zephiel insisted on trying to talk to Vicary.

It was idiocy, and the Hamorians understood no non-Hamorians could understand it, so they were inclined to let the Prince try.

And survive. Behind walls of tower shields and heavy wards, that is.

Kayleth chuckled as arrows lashed out to greet the Prince and his retinue. The flag for parlay meant nothing, nothing, and even less than nothing to highlanders. It was always the enemy that wanted to parlay. The highlanders just wanted to get the battle over with. The side that wanted to parlay was almost always the weaker side. Highlanders were never on the weaker side.

"Those dogs!" One of the nobles next to him said. "My Prince, I told you that parlay and honor means nothing to those Hamorian savages!"

The Hamorians understood that sentiment. The nobles in the Outer Duchies along the Hamorian border had been subject to many Hamorian invasions. They tended to lose, and what few victories they had were pyrrhic victories at best.

The weak wanted to parlay. The strong had no reason to.

"Vicary!" Murdock called out, risking his head out of the shield wall. "The Prince wants to talk to you!"

"I don't want to talk to him!" a gruff voice snarled back. Four arrows and a blast of Elfire struck where Murdock's head had been not two seconds ago. Kayleth could not see his face due to the company's signature grinning masks, but only one would have such authority in his voice. "Idiots! Stop! They want us to waste war material!"

"Not the point but now that I think about it a good one!" Kayleth shouted, peeking out from beside Murdock.

Vicary's eyes widened as he recognized Kayleth. "I heard you were dead!"

"Too much trouble to die! You know the Red Baron who commanded the army that destroyed the Black Fang? Me!"

Vicary laughed raucously. "Good job! That might've been my next assignment and I didn't fancy fighting those lunatics! You abducted your sister?"

"I'd say rescue rather than abduct!"

"Abduct from a life of abundance and luxury?"

"You know it's also a life of duty and slavery! How're your own children? Svetlana must be, what, twenty now, right?"

"She's twenty-two! Qualified apothecary and beer-brewer!"

"Congratulations! A shame you won't drink her beer! I'll be happy to drink your share!"

"We'll see about that! Bring it on!"

"Oh you'll die today, of that I assure you! See you in hell, Vicary!" Kayleth withdrew his head back within the shield wall, and ordered the retreat.

"… That was negotiating?" Zephiel hissed. "How the hell was that negotiating? No terms were exchanged!"

"Your Highness, Vicary's three children and wife are at Winterfell," Kayleth raised an eyebrow. "His troops are highlanders, their homes deep in what is our enemy's territory. They have family that can be slaughtered, too. They will fight to the death no matter what I say. What I just did was to assure them that I won't harm their families, that I understand their circumstances, and that they will die nonetheless. Similarly, if Alice dies in this war, I assure Your Highness that I will kill you, your sister, your father, and your mother, and a healthy number of people I hold responsible for this war. Food for thought."

"Kayleth!" Alice snapped.

"Oh. Don't worry. Most of our troops would be dead before you are. Ah, and I calculate no chance in hell Lyn is going to die, but if she does, I'll do the same," Kayleth tried to placate her.

"I'll make sure not to die, then," Lyn sighed, blocking a hand-axe that almost got through a slit in the shield-wall.

"General Brenya, fire the signal," Kayleth said into his communications stone as Zephiel's guards and he reached a good distance away from the group of heavily armed and homicidal maniacs.

The Legions of the outer Duchies approached from the front cautiously. Hamorian mercenary companies were infamous for their ruthless efficiency and unwavering discipline.

One of the greatest weapons of Hamorian mercenary companies was their reputation, after all. Kayleth sighed at the poor quality of his own troops who were clearly scared out of their wits.

Wyvern Knights tried to pass over the mercenaries, meaning to drop boiling oil on them. Thunder, arrows, and ballistae rounds struck out at them, dropping all seven of the Wyvern Knights.

Kayleth knew that was not going to work, but he had to keep the mercenaries distracted. Yet more Wyvern Knights zigzagged towards the gorge; they knew they had a good chance of dying, and their job was to keep Vicary's troops occupied for as long as possible.

The front ranks of Zephiel's troops withered away in a hail of javelins and hand-axes.

"Go."

Vaida's flanking troops, dropped in by Wyvern Knights the night before and hidden behind the peak of the gorge, charged downhill.

Humans in armor running downhill have a surprising amount of momentum, assuming they don't trip.

Cavalry galloping downhill have a bone-crushing amount of momentum, and concentrated on the enemies before them, Vicary's mercenaries had little warning before Vaida's troops crashed into them.

With a sickening sound of crushed bones, neighing horses, and screaming humans, the archers, ballistae crew, and magi to the back of Vicary's formation were slaughtered.

Still, they bought enough time for half of Vicary's melee troops to turn around and face the flankers. Magi, knowing they were going to die, expended all of their magical energy in raising a wall of fire to stall Vaida's troops. Archers drew their short swords, and aimed for the forelegs of the horses rather than the riders. Surviving ranged troops were quickly dragged into the middle of the now encircled mercenaries. Though surprised, the highlanders quickly rallied to fight with the discipline, efficiency, and professionalism bred and drilled into them.

The lines were reformed on both sides, and Vicary's troops started the slaughter anew. Kayleth recognized Vicary's second, Nephi, in her distinct helmet that had a spike protruding out of the forehead. She rarely had a need to use it but her opponent was a Knight of some skill. Kayleth enjoyed the rare spectacle of Nephi locking the Knight's sword with her own, drawing him in close, and punching through his faceplate with her helmet's spike. He thought such helmets should be the standard rather than the anomaly, if only to be able to use that move. Nephi kicked the corpse back into the throngs of her enemies and took the heads of the two who were attacking the Hamorians at her sides.

Kayleth fancied he recognized sergeant Harrow, the oldest serving veteran Knight in the company, believed to be some fifty years old when Kayleth had served with him a decade ago. When the right flank of the Hamorian lines buckled, his squad plunged into the fray with their battleaxes and greatswords, turning back only when the line was reformed behind them. In that brief skirmish, Harrow harvested the limbs of seven soldiers with his halberd.

Sergeant Harrow was a true lifer. He knew that limbless men were worth less than nothing and that it took energy and supplies to treat them. Further, the ones behind his victims would be even more horrified at the prospect of facing him than simple killing would have ensured. Kayleth would trade an arm and maybe even a leg for fifty soldiers like Harrow.

It was really a shame to waste such good troops. Kayleth felt less than nothing at the death of Zephiel's troops: perhaps a pang of regret that they each had only one life to give. He shed a tear for every highlander who died in the gorge.

Next to him, the Prince paled at the sight of his troops getting decimated.

Without a significant contingent of magi and archers to counter them, Wyvern Knights passed over the mercenaries unchecked, dropping their loads of oil and dry hay. The mercenaries, realizing what Kayleth had in mind, surged backwards to break through on Vaida's end. All but the front ranks facing Kayleth were stripped away to attack Vaida's troops. The ferocity of their assault was such that Kayleth feared for Vaida's life for a moment.

"Baron, we're taking heavy casualties!" Baron Neturus, an ambitious upstart who had joined the revolution to further his standings, shouted through the communications stone. While it was ludicrously easy to lead him by the nose with promises of a County, Kayleth had also found him to be quite competent in carrying out his orders, and especially of the kind he was going to order next.

"Press the attack. Leave no breathing room. Throw every man you have at them," Kayleth replied. "Such losses are within expected parameters. Kill our troops if they try to flee."

Dozens of fire arrows struck the oil and fire engulfed the mercenaries and the front ranks of Zephiel's troops. Vicary did not have enough troops left to break through on either end.

"Charge. No quarters."

Wyvern Knights, now unhindered by any disciplined resistance, slaughtered what few mercenaries there were left. It was more difficult than had been planned. Even burning, the highlanders were determined to deal as much damage as possible before dying. Those burning too badly to fight coherently simply tackled whatever enemy was closest and burned together. Soon, only a loose circle of maybe half a dozen soldiers were left. Vicary was one of them, and in his full armor he slaughtered Zephiel's troops unchecked. In his last minute he slew two Wyvern Knights and seven axemen before succumbing to a barrage of magical fire. Kayleth judged that Vicary's men and women performed admirably under the circumstances.

"… I think we lost about two Legions, maybe more," Kayleth said. "Let us hope their reinforcements are more amenable to discussions, or at this rate we'll never get to Winterfell."

"Two? In a battle with more than twenty times their numbers?!" Zephiel stared as the last of Vicary's troops were engulfed by the tides of his own troops."

"Your Highness," a messenger was allowed to pass, a boy of perhaps thirteen years. "Duke Mithal reports that Legio V has lost a hundred and thirty two troops and that Legio IX lost a hundred and eleven troops. General Vaida estimates the loss of thirty one Wyvern Knights and a total of two hundred and five dead in Legio II and XII."

"Even more than two Legions!" Zephiel grumbled.

"There were about a hundred and fifty highlanders in that gorge, Your Highness, holding a small pass," Sigismund said. "All things considered, you should count this a victory."

"These 'victories' are likely to ruin me first."

"Boy," Kayleth called the messenger. "Tell the Duke and the General to scavenge what they find on the dead. All enemy corpses are to be burned. All Legions that did not participate in the battle are to consolidate and fortify the hill down the pass. "

"Yes, my Lord."

"Ah. Boy!"

"Y-yes?"

"Have people pick up the silver tags the dead highlanders have on their bodies," Kayleth thought it must be the first time in centuries for an entire mercenary company to be wiped out, perhaps even the first time ever. Usually when defeated, the survivors picked up the tags and retreated, harassing the enemy with hit and run tactics. "It's always in some form of jewelry, so search for necklaces, rings, bracelets, any jewelry that is big enough to have a name engraved on it. I expect a hundred and fifty or so tags; thieves will be executed, and it will be slow executions."

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

Morale was low.

Most of the Prince's troops had been astounded by the easy victories they had won in the opening moves of the revolution. They were appalled by the casualties they had taken earlier that day. Kayleth had ordered alcohol to be distributed among the soldiers.

No similar solution existed for the nobles, who were all questioning the Wyvern Generals whether they thought they could win this war if the Hamorians truly mobilized.

The questions scared him because he was wondering that himself. Basic mobilization of all active Legions with soldiers aged eighteen to twenty one and the knightly Legions could be defeated. Advanced mobilization depended on who the Hamorian nobles were going to pick: the Prince and Alice or the King and his father, Calgar.

It also depended on who they thought had the better brains for war. Kayleth had more practical experience, concrete plans, and two decades of experience at deception.

The current Duke of Hamor had superior troops and was the defender. Calgar was nothing like his son, though, and while he had seen enough wars to be one of the King's Wyvern Generals, he was not a strategist. He led on the battlefield, and armies he was attached to tended to have unbreakable morale. Strategies were left to professional Codiciers under his employ.

That his aunt and another Count decided to join Alice's side was a promising start, though. Countess Teletha of Ashwick, his aunt, and the other Count controlled controlled the western half of the western half of Hamor. Many of the nobles in the other western Counties had promised to declare their support for Alice if they could get past Vicary's company. Kayleth knew that if he could eliminate his father's agents commanding the Duchy's Legions, most of the Legions would join Alice's side.

Hamorians were not forgiving of incompetents like the current King, and that might be enough for the great majority of the populace to disregard the Duke's reasoning of the cost of the civil war. The only thing keeping them from full rebellion against the King was the several knightly Legions who owed their loyalties to the Duke, and their loyalties were absolute.

Kayleth could handle Legions composed mainly of commoners, like Vicary's. They had inflicted so many casualties because of their favorable geography. Legions consisting of Hamorian Knights and nobles, on the other hand, would require all of his cunning and preparations to defeat.

"You're brooding, again," Cale said. The Sacaen chief had returned from leading an expeditionary force of scouts. The Prince's Legions had formed up appropriately.

If his aunt did not side with Alice tomorrow, Kayleth had every intention of being ready to slaughter however many of her soldiers it took to convince her otherwise, and all of them if he couldn't.

"Do you think we'll win?" Kayleth asked, more out of curiosity than any realistic assessment.

"Of course we will. Surely that's not the question that's been plaguing you?" Cale's brows furrowed in consternation.

"I ask that question at least a dozen times a day."

"Our cause is just, our numbers are many, we are ready, and we have you."

"Thanks, but sometimes battles can't be won by smokes and mirrors alone."

"Look at it this way. You know what you are, what you're capable of. If you didn't think this war would be won, do you think you would have agreed to come? Alice or not? I'm going to get some more drinks."

Kayleth considered that perspective. To his disappointment, he realized he would have locked Alice up in Seventh Heaven if he thought he couldn't win this war. His respect for her wishes as a free adult went only so far.

It was ironic that his endgame for the war involved a healthy chance for his own death.

Alice came to his side of the enormous tent that was hosting the dinner for the nobility. She had been acting on Kayleth's orders to reassure as many people as she could that her aunt would be joining her with a significant contingent of Hamorian Legions. While her efforts were almost wasted on the more elderly and the experienced, she had remarkable success with the youth, as had been Kayleth's expectation.

Whether or not she became the greatest leader of Hamor since the eighteenth Duke, Kayleth knew that she would be the most beloved. If that wasn't enough, Kayleth would always be near to ensure that either love or fear would enforce obedience.

"Kayleth, you should go socialize," Alice said reproachfully, not having enjoyed the company of some of her would-be suitors.

"Why? I've already met everyone I need to meet." Kayleth's target population had been the middle-aged and the elderly of the nobility who had practical command over most of the soldiers. Deals were made, egos salved, and palms greased. "How are they?"

"They're afraid it'll be a trap, though they seem to think you would be ready for one."

"They're not wrong."

"Kayleth! Aunt Teletha would never betray me," Alice insisted.

He thought it unlikely, too, but one could never be too careful. "Of course not, but there may be loyalists in her retinue. I have prepared troops to be ready to extract her should the need arise."

"Oh. I haven't thought about it that way."

"Of course not. Now run along and make some friends. Remember, your price is highest when people think you'll become the Duchess, not when you are the Duchess."

"Har har."

"Really. That's how the politics of marriage works. Be sure to pick a good one, though. I would rather not go down in history as one who killed a hundred of her sister's suitors. I'll accept Murdock, for instance."

"Or the Prince?" Alice suggested, with an admirable effort to hide her blush. Kayleth chuckled, seeing that she had yet to get over the teenage wish fulfillment fantasy of most noblewomen. He hoped there would be lots of uppity nobles or peasants to crush after the civil war, if only to have an excuse to visit his baby sister.

"No. I'll kill him and string his organs on a tree. I'd rather not be known for that, either."

"... You're going to kill all of my suitors, aren't you?"

"Bring me one as good as or better than Murdock, and I swear I won't. Oh, don't mention any of this to Murdock. It'll get to his already enormous head, the uppity peasant."

"I seriously worry for Pearl and Madelyn sometimes."

Kayleth nodded in agreement, "I expect the casualties to be in the high hundreds. They may have my permission if they defeat Lyn in swordplay and defeat my army on the battlefield."

"You're lying," Kayleth had decades of practice and training in controlling his face, but Alice knew him well enough to spot it sometimes.

"You're right. Afterwards, they'll need to prove they can survive decapitation."

"Who can survive decapitation?" Murdock asked as he approached with a scroll in hand. Kayleth snatched it and proceeded to skim it.

"You, because it's obvious you don't actually utilize your head," Kayleth muttered. "And we'll have to stop feeding the dogs meat. Might have to feed the dogs to the wyverns. It's going to be a lean winter. Tell Duke Joseph and Ashe that we'll need more whale oil, too. That ought to keep the Ilians happy, if nothing else."

"The Prince asked me to ask you what your plans are for the next battle, too."

"Depends on who the enemy commander is. Tell him he shouldn't worry too much, as long as the five Legions of levies he promised from the Outer Duchies arrive on time."

"What do you need levies for?" Murdock asked. Levies were unreliable troops at the best of times.

"Bait, obviously. I need bait to set a trap."

"Running out of tricks?"

"We're in our homeland, Murdock. If the Duke decides to rally opposition, opposition will be fierce. Again, it really depends on the quality of the commanders leading them. We may even have to have the Hamorian nobles supporting us issue a maximum threat level conscription."

"That'll be a bloodbath!"

"Which is what I'm trying to avoid. Far better to sacrifice five Legions of levies than to risk that."

"If you say so," Murdock shrugged. "Still, it'd be ideal to not waste more lives than is necessary. Bypass the usual strongholds and castles. Give more Hamorian nobles the chance to rally under Lady Alice's banner. The immediate surroundings of Winterfell are hopeless. Use the levies there."

"If we're lucky, some of the leaders of Hamor's knightly Legions will decide to join us as well. They're not happy about the things the King uses their taxes on. One of the nobles told me that he's constructing a second summer palace next to the sea," Alice chimed in.

"This is all speculation, anyways. We'll see when my aunt joins our side tomorrow."

"Countess Teletha was always a vocal opponent of the King," Murdock said.

"And a good aunt to me and Alice, but she's a Hamorian noble, and it is her duty to pick sides based on overall social good. We will take every precaution."

* * *

The Prince's Legions were placed at the ridges of two mountains that were nearby, encircling the seven Hamorian Legions Countess Teletha had brought with her in a formation reminiscent of a crane with outstretched wings.

Kayleth supposed that it was a good sign the Hamorians were continuing onward, into the heart of the would-be trap. Three of the Legions consisted solely of Knights, while the other four seemed to consist of young or middle-aged volunteers.

Four riders approached the space between the main concentrations of the two armies. Through his spyglass, Kayleth saw that one was his aunt.

"Your Highness, Murdock, Athielle, Alice, with me," Kayleth said as Elaine took to the air. Murdock jumped on the back, causing Elaine to complain with a squawk. "And you are to go on a diet for the next two weeks. Turn some of that blubber into muscle."

"You know I have little 'blubber' to speak of. Ever thought it's Elaine who's getting fat?"

"Possibly. Haven't been able to weigh her for ages. She's nearing her first century, though. Amazing for a combat-class wyvern. They usually don't last five decades, so there's little information about their growth rates and whatnot. Hold on tight."

The group from the Prince's army landed in front of the riders who had emerged from the Hamorian army. Kayleth thought it encouraging that no one had shot down any of the wyverns.

"Countess Teletha," Kayleth bowed, the lowest anyone present had ever seen him bow. His aunt was a tall woman, as most Hamorian women tended to be. He noted that she had many more worry lines than she had a decade ago, though otherwise she seemed to have aged well. A couple of streaks of grey could be seen in her brown hair. She had no intention of killing him, as far as he could tell, though she did look anxious.

"Nephew mine," the Countess acknowledged, and her green eyes widened as they passed over Alice. She seemed to be relieved, though wary. Kayleth suspected that she recognized her, but was not sure she was really Alice. He could understand that; even as a fourteen year old he had a reputation for deception and an impostor was exactly what he would have come up with.

"This is His Highness, Prince Zephiel, first of his name," Kayleth started the introductions. "Dame Athielle, his bodyguard. I'm sure you know Wyvern General Murdock, my client. This is Alice, your niece, and soon-to-be Duchess of Hamor and master of Winterfell."

"Your Highness," Teletha curtsied. Protocol had it that she had no real need to greet anyone else. "This is Count Tullius. My son, Johann. My nephew, Viscount Gunter."

"Oh? I didn't recognize you, cousins, it's been too long," Kayleth nodded at them. Both were five or six years younger than he was, and the last time he had seen them they were ten years old at the most.

"Whereas you look exactly the same," Johann grinned.

"You were much cuter when you were ten, how are your siblings?" Kayleth gave him an obligatory hug nonetheless and ruffling his hair, which the youth protested against.

"Stop," Teletha growled, interrupting everyone's greetings. "One thing must be verified, and now. Alice, or whoever you are, come with me."

"I think I'd recognize my baby sister, aunt," Kayleth shot back.

"I insist. Whatever your reasons for this war, mine is to place the right leader in Winterfell. If she's an impostor, our Legions will destroy yours."

"You're outnumbered four to one and surrounded. I hardly think you're in the position to make demands."

"When you're done with us, you won't have enough to besiege the next castle you come across," Teletha pointed out, and it became quite clear to Kayleth that she had no problems with death.

Alice stepped forward towards Teletha. "It's alright, Kayleth. I'll be right back."

The Countess took her niece out of earshot of the group. Alice felt awkward at the silence, seeing as she knew very well this was her aunt.

"Where were you for your sixth birthday?" Teletha probed.

"Your citadel. Kayleth wasn't there. I think he was on a campaign with father and mother."

"Do you remember anything special from that day?"

"Aunt Teletha, it was eleven years ago."

"Human brains are hard-wired to remember traumas. I suggest you start remembering, now," Teletha said.

Now that she thought about it, Alice did remember. "We were playing hide and seek. I think I was in your dressing room. I got stuck in a closet... it wouldn't open."

"Go on."

"I think I cried myself to sleep. Uncle Hei found me. You said you were going to execute the man who made the closet... did you?"

Alice found herself smothered by her aunt's embrace. While she had some years left to grow, her aunt was good head taller than she was and her strength was something to note. She thought her aunt was crying, too.

"There, there," Alice said, in a rare position of comforting someone else. "Now you can give me the present you promised when I turned eight. A Pegasus with a horn, though I know now unicorns don't exist."

With a last shudder, the Countess calmed down enough to say, "A horn made of marble, dig a small cavity on the glorified horse's forehead, and meld it into that spot. Problem solved."

"Wouldn't that hurt?" Alice frowned.

"Not my concern. Let's go back."

"What happened to uncle Hei?"

"Died in battle."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. By all accounts, my husband had a good death."

As they reached the group, Kayleth noticed that her aunt had undergone a remarkable change in mood, returning to her more typical jovial self. No one had to ask whether she was pleased by Alice's identity.

"Satisfied?" Kayleth asked.

"Tullius, I present to you our future Duchess."

"Thank God. It would've been awkward to drag an army here to find an impostor," he turned around and whistled.

Four Assassins rose from the ground, covered in dirt and grass, and started cleaning themselves as they headed back to their army.

"As awkward as it is to have a Duchess even younger than I am? Or to find someone you knew as a seven year old so pretty?" Johann groaned as he knelt. "Cousin. It's been a long time. At your service, Your Grace."

"Johann, where're your brothers?" Alice asked, motioning him to rise.

"Guinness is running a mercenary company in Etruria, one year left on his tour. Fried died, plague. Artois is in Lycia, accompanying a mercenary company, three years left in his tour. He's coming back, though, for the civil war. His commander, and the knights and nobles in the company, have declared for you and the Prince."

"That's nice. What about Guinness?"

"He knows he won't make it back in time."

"Your Grace," Gunter said, kneeling.

"Cousin," Alice greeted. "Although I cannot honestly say I remember you. I was four and you were eleven, I think."

"That is correct. I see you wear my father's blade."

Kayleth thought he had forgotten something, and his hallucination of Pascal laughed at him for it.

"Kayleth told me he found uncle dead, defending his people."

Gunter looked at the tactician, clearly puzzled, and understood by the variety of hand-motions involving the neck and death glares that he was not to say another word about the matter.

"I see. If I may, will you grant me a favor, cousin?"

"Name it."

"I would like the blade back."

Alice had used the blade for a good third of her life, and she had grown to be attached to it. However, she also knew that her cousin had a greater claim to it. "You may, after I inherit mine."

"Of course," Gunter said as he rose. "Don't worry. You can trust in our Legions to deliver you Winterfell."

"Not enough," Kayleth noted. "Not if we face the five premier Legions."

"We'll pick up more support on the way," Tullius said as he knelt before his new liege. "Your Grace, at your service."

"Thank you, Count Tullius. Though I think I'll save oaths of fealty until we take Winterfell."

"A prudent decision, Your Grace. It's all a matter of timing. Will the mercenary companies that pledged for you arrive first or will the Inner Duchies rally first?"

"We'll take Winterfell before either of those two occasions," Teletha stated, and her confidence was very visible. Her stride stopped in front of Alice, and she knelt. "Now... this is something I thought would happen with Kayleth, but here goes."

"Auntie... you don't have to do that with me."

"I have to, and at least once more at Winterfell, in the throne room of my forebears." Teletha rose and took her lance, which had a banner bearing her family's crest on it, and waved it.

A clamor of voices lashed out from the Hamorian ranks, "The citizens of Hamor salute their Duchess! Long life to our Duchess!"

Alice waved her hand and realized, not for the first time, that she had great expectations to live up to. She swore that she would make them proud.

She wondered whether she could kill her own parents, though, because that was the price of the success of this revolution. Her parents had not been the most loving of parents, but she didn't bear them any ill will except for what they had done to Kayleth. Her brother said he had forgiven them, even thanked them, for what they did to him, but even she could tell he had many more axes to grind than was said.

At the moment, Kayleth was busy thinking of the various ways he could kill his parents now that he had some professional Legions under his command. His happiness was interrupted by the observation that the Legions he'd be facing from now on were also professionals.

* * *

Omake (continuation of the one from chapter 5)

Kayleth let Elaine take him over the wall. Flight, brief and low-altitude though it was, was as refreshing as ever. He'd been cooped up in space ships and planet killing mechanical monstrosities for far too long a period of his life.

That reality marble drained much of Kayleth's prana, though he used it for less than a minute. His 'master' was doing nothing to help, of course, other than stuttering and saying something about murder. Kayleth would have said something about self-defense, but the retard seemed unlikely to understand the intricacies of Kantian morality and libertarian principles. He seemed to have a very limited store of prana, anyways. Kayleth would have to determine from the other masters, and servants, whether it would be more cost-efficient for him to kill people for their quintessence rather than letting some madman win. It seemed the prize was not worth the effort when all he'd wish for was cake, topped with cream, caramel, and filled with blueberries. If it was within this grail's power, Kayleth'd ask for warm milk, too.

While his treasury was useful in supplementing his prana store, it was nowhere enough to sustain repeated usage of his ultimate noble phantasm. That had been inconvenient. He'd have to rely on his secondary. That was why lancer was so dangerous. His secondary had no defense against whatever the hells that dog's noble phantasm was. His eyes reminded him of a mad dog of the most dangerous sort, the kind that could not be regulated by rational incentives.

Kayleth spotted the likely master of the servant, who was close by not not visible. It was a twin-tailed girl with raven hair and blue eyes. That was strange. As far as the grail was concerned, it had told him that blue eyes were an impossibility in this locale.

The tactician prepared for battle. Elaine was hurt from the battle with lancer. It was time to bring up some of the newer rides he had acquired without alerting the normals of his presence. Mobile suits and space ships were out of the question, the former for their size and the latter for their prana requirements. He'd have to rely on one of the earlier models, the Goliath combat walker, infantry support model.

The two 'arm' mounted autocannons and the one between the legs started cycling. He always thought that the one between the legs was more compensation than practicality.

A tiny figure darted in front of the master, and Kayleth opened fire.

The hail of bullets were met by kinetic shield spells. The hellfire missiles couldn't get through, either. This caster must have been something to handle such firepower.

The caster of the war responded with pyrokinetic spells. The primitive Goliath could not handle such firepower for long.

Kayleth cursed as the flat chested master flung shots infused with prana towards him. He ejected, and summoned a Valkyrie-class gunship with a puppet secondary pilot.

The caster began spamming A-class offensive spells and summoning some kind of fire elementals. Even a Phoenix was summoned, and would have divebombed into one of the Valkyrie's engines if Kayleth had not targeted it with heat-seekers. This caster was an incorrigible cheater, Kayleth noted. Kayleth had yet to locate the caster, so he spammed superheated laser as well as depleted uranium and tungsten rounds at the master.

"Starboard shield generators down. Compensating with power from rear shield generators," the puppet said.

Kayleth started to prepare the summoning of individual warriors from within his reality marble. His tertiary noble phantasm allowed him to pluck soldiers who wanted to impress him from his ultimate noble phantasm to fight as cannon fodder in his stead. This caster was inordinately powerful and was an outrageous cheater. He'd have to retreat for the time being. Kayleth dispelled the gunship, preparing for an atmospheric flight capable mobile suit in its stead.

He felt a sharp prick to the head as caster attempted to overwhelm his mental defenses. Kayleth was ready. His mind was always surrounded by a moat of acid and guarded by the most vigilant of gargoyles. The defenses closed like a vice around caster's fist.

The defenses stopped just before taking a bite out of the part of caster's soul that invaded his mind. Kayleth recognized that hand. This grail had a psyche twisted beyond even his own reckoning if the hand belonged to who he thought it belonged to.

"... Pearl?"

"... Papa?"

Kayleth dispelled the gunship and landed. Pearl showed herself within moments.

"You chose that form?" Kayleth asked, pointing at his daughter's ten years old form.

"It's advantageous to have enemies underestimate you," Pearl giggled. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know. I was going to bring you cake."

"That's very nice of you, papa, but the cake is a lie."

"Hmm?"

"A reference to a game on this planet," Pearl shrugged, and inclined her head towards her master who was approaching them. "This is my master, Rin, of the house of-"

"Pearl, why aren't you fighting?!" this Rin started ranting.

"Rin, this is my father," Pearl continued. "Unless his master orders it, he won't be attacking us."

Rin's jaws dropped to the ground and turned on Pearl. "Father? What kind of a hero are you?! I can't find your records anywhere in-"

"We're of a different universe," Kayleth explained. "A universe where we were the guardians of humanity. Shepherds of the human evolutionary scheme for an untold number of years."

Pearl groaned as her secrets were revealed.

"You're not ten?!" Rin shrieked.

"Master, you remember what I did to you in our bath and you thought it was coincidence? Innocent mistakes?" Pearl's grin stretched from end to end across her face. "Further, do you actually think there are any ten year old girls in the Throne of Heroes? Oh, you silly. I'm from an alternate universe of the far future, and probably older than the sun of this primitive backwater world."

"Speaking of the Throne, have you been in my armory recently?" Kayleth asked, now understanding why his armory was so disorganized and messy.

"Yes. I had no servant to clean up after me, though," Pearl replied, completely unapologetic.

"Do leave the prana-substitute items for me. My master's an incompetent," Kayleth grimaced as he thought of the redheaded youth.

"Wait a minute!" Rin snapped. "You may be family, but I agreed to no alliance!"

"You'd rather waste our fated meeting, this early in the war, continue expending prana on an avoidable battle, and dismiss an ally in the face of possibilities of more powerful Servants?" Kayleth noted this as another evidence that retardation was a common genetic defect in the locale. Even considering the appropriate contemporary time in his own universe, the humans in this place were foolish. The Grail War itself proved it. Any form of magecraft or magic required sacrifice. The bigger it was, the bigger the sacrifice. In this instance, it supposedly was the spiritual power of the servants, but there had to be more. The Grail could not summon the servants otherwise. More importantly, the prize was predicated on anything being possible. What better way to power that than through the sacrifice of the Servants plus alpha, alpha being the however many innocents nearby necessary to power the wish?

That was why it was imperative that the people without particularly ambitious wishes win. Failing that, that was why it was imperative he find an easily manipulated master but one who was smart enough to realize that if the Grail could do literally anything it did so through the power of sacrificing innocents as well as the Servants.

Kayleth ignored the master's response and asked, "What's your wish, Pearl?"

"Bigger breasts for my master, at least E cup, she has a horrid complex," she replied without hesitation, not paying heed to Rin's mortified shrieks of indignation claiming that she had no breast complex. "You?"

"I was going to get you a cake for when I returned to the Throne, but I suspect we can get some here without the Grail anyways. I'll settle for a puppy now."

"A puppy would be enjoyable," Pearl agreed.

The door to the Emiya estate opened, and Kayleth's 'master' arrived.

"... Eh?!"

"Emiya-kun..." Rin breathed. Kayleth could see that his master and Pearl's were acquainted, and that Pearl's was in love with his. That was even more convenient than the Root allowed under most circumstances.

"Tohsaka-san? Wait, what's going on here?!"

"He's not the sharpest needle, is he?" Pearl whispered.

"Where did you meet him?"

"Nearly got himself killed by Lancer. Had to use an elixir from the armory for that. My master's in love with him," Pearl said the last part out loud.

"Pearl, I swear, if you continue I'll use a command seal to keep you silent the whole war!"

Kayleth's eyes narrowed, "If you use any command seals on Pearl, I'll kill you, little girl. I am old enough that I have watched the births of stars and the deaths of the same stars. Rest assured that billions of years of human civilization, and the same of alien civilizations I exterminated, gave rise to some very creative methods of torture. You may consider yourself a master, but know that you are one at Pearl's sufferance."

"Now, now, let's not say words that we'll regret later as allies," Pearl said.

"Yes, why don't you all come in my house?" the redhead, Emiya, suggested.

"That would not be the best of ideas, boy. We are not allies, yet. Have that little girl swear by her power as a magus to be your faithful ally, and then we can consider the house."

"... Fine, but this is only because of my servant," Rin snapped. "I also cannot allow someone who does not know the stakes to get himself killed so recklessly."

"She's very shy. They call her type a tsundere on this planet," Pearl 'whispered', letting herself be heard by everyone.

"Please, can't we talk about this over food?" the redhead flailed, trying desperately to keep the peace.

"You cook?"

"I can cook."

"Very well," Kayleth allowed. "I will give you permission to cook for my daughter and myself. If you're not a good cook, I believe I will have no choice but to kill you. Keep that in mind as you cook."

* * *

Credits for the Hamorian Duchy's civilization goes to Frank Herbert (Dune), Isaac Asimov (Foundation), Orson Scott Card (Ender's Game), and history. In terms of real-world comparisons, I can only think of Frederick the Great's Prussia (until a couple of generations after him) and early Republican Rome. In fiction, now that I think about it this civilization reminds me of high-fantasy dwarves. I apologize for the lengthy exposition in the story, and I apologize for the next piece of lengthy exposition as well but I think it's pertinent in understanding what kind of a civilization produces people like Kayleth. People who have majored or are majoring in history, social sciences, or econ can probably skip most of the explanation parts in this.

Political correctness will be summarily executed now. The following is based on my academic opinion as a student of history and economics.

I was trying to design a civilization that would most likely "win" in a medieval world while being equally effective in a Renaissance-Enlightenment Age. Considering these backwards primates in Elibe still didn't graduate feudalism, I also had to think of a suitable reason for a civilization that produces passably intelligent men by modern standards while facing population limitations. Meanwhile, the civilization also had to reflect the realities of a medieval civilization. Drawing from various fictional and nonfictional sources, I cobbled up this civilization.

The principles of "win" in a medieval world is simple. Breed aggressive males and females who can bear healthy children while being willing to send them to war, to quote Orson Scott Card. That's why the Muslims did so well in the medieval world. That's why the early Roman Republic won against Carthage's mercenaries. That's why the Mongols conquered 1/4 of the world.

The principles of "success" in a civilization is largely based on six things that the West did while the rest of the world stagnated. Oh it's not racism or bigotry when you say that. A civilization with an average lifespan of seventy, economic growth, and technological advances is clearly and irrefutably better than one with an average lifespan of forty, economic stagnation, and willful ignorance. Because that is why the West outstripped the Rest since the 1600s: 1) infinite competition 2) science 3) the rule of law and representative government 4) modern medicine 5) consumerism (is a very good thing despite what some people would have you believe) 6) the work ethic. Kudos to Professor Niall Ferguson. Ever complain about how world history seems to be Eurocentric? Don't. World history from the 17th century to the late 20th century is Western history and you're only lying to yourself if you think otherwise. There is absolutely no goddamn significant thing the Rest discovers or does from the 16th to mid 20th century. The PC crowd will argue that it's because of imperialism and colonization, but please, realism. Political correctness does not trump academic truth and I will never apologize for siding with objective analysis backed by good reasoning and evidence over sentiments and social pressure to conform. Anyhow, while #4 and too advanced #2 would be cheating in a medieval world, I can certainly apply the rest to Hamor.

By the way, civilization, as the root of the word shows, is based on cities, and a certain number of requirements such as writing, record-keeping, surplus food generation, specialization, bureaucracy (though the DMV is a curse), artistic expression, organized religion, and so on. By that definition, Sacae and Ilia do not have a civilization. Subsistence economy-based cultures and nomadic cultures can never be called civilizations. Again, I will never apologize for truth. It can be a culture, sure. It is most definitely not a civilization.

That a leader can shape the general course of the future by setting in place a certain system comes from Asimov's Foundation series and the difference between North and South + Central America. Both had lots of resources, frontiers, etc but only the North is well-off. There are several reasons for this but the most fundamental one is the system. The Spanish, in addition to committing a several genocides that makes Hitler pale in comparison, put in place an exploitative economic system and an exclusive political one that 1) does not respect individual property 2) and thus fails to provide incentive to the vast majority of the people. These traits last to this day and that is why most of South and Central America is garbage. The British on the other hand put in place inclusive economic and political systems that 1) respects individual property (the American Revolutionaries' claims were mostly a whole load of bullshit. The British in Britain paid far more in taxes) 2) and thus provided incentive to the vast majority of the people. In economic terms, it is quite simple why the North succeeded and the South failed. The Spanish bent South America over a barrel and blessed its rear while Britain set up viable systems wherever they colonized in numbers (U.S., Canada, Australia, New Zealand). British occupation was a mixed blessing for her colonies without large white populations. Spanish occupation was and is still a curse to all of her colonies and the difference between the two is incentive.

Anyhow, the basic premise for Hamor is that tough environments breed tough people. It's called natural selection and you can be a Creationist and still believe in this. Mutations through natural selection don't automatically equate to evolution. However, other than Ilia, Elibe doesn't strike me as a particularly hazardous place and definitely not comparable to Arrakis of Dune. Natural selection then would have to occur through artificial means.

In terms of collective morality, I went with extreme an extremely libertarian (think Andrew Ryan's Rapture, but not out of control) one balanced out by some utilitarian policies. To summarize, that means it's a society with maximum liberties accompanied by responsibility mixed in with some things like regressive taxes, a pseudo-cult of the state, pooling resources, cognatic lineage, etc.

The citizen-soldier should be a familiar concept to anyone who studied Roman history. The additional conditions for allowing one to stay in Hamor impose another layer of natural selection in that it favors extreme specialization and professionalism, something that occurred in Renaissance Florence and later the Dutch Republic, for instance. Note that the Dutch are on average the tallest and one of the smartest people in the world to this day despite liberal consumption of alcohol and marijuana. Note the Gucci, who made clothes back in the Renaissance and are still making good clothes and whatever. Encourages the growth of a population that approaches modern humans in terms of average physique and intelligence.

Like the early Roman Republic, one's individual worth and therefore rights are determined by how much blood and gold they paid for their state's defense. Nobles thus are required to bleed the most and pay the most. The lowest would be commoners over the age of twenty one who pay the bare minimum in taxes and serve only three years in the military. There are no freeloaders in Hamor because of these incentives. One has no rights that one does not earn in blood and labor, and those who fail to meet the minimum requirements for both are exiled unless they return with the ability and will to fulfill those requirements.

That said, the one realistically unlikely deviation is the participation of women in this society. Since it's canon, I'll run with it as best as I can. Elimine was a woman, too, which might reflect why primogeniture doesn't seem to be the norm in Lycia or Etruria (Lyn, Lilina, Priscilla) and women are part of the clergy (Serra). Furthermore, putting 1/2 of the population out of productivity is too inefficient for a society like Hamor to abide by. While Elibe seems mostly equal-opportunity in terms of participation in military service, civilizations that don't preserve their women die out for obvious reasons. There has to be some pressure to alleviate natural selection stress on women, who have the added selection criteria of birth. That is why Hamorian women are employed in positions most likely to survive, either ranged or heavily armored troops. Further, the tax requirement is lower to account for all the good things our mothers do for us for free (cooking, laundry, child-rearing, etc) while it is not unlikely that they can still have industrial output (Medieval/Renaissance age putting-out system, by which women can work at home, and mandatory education which relieves women of domestic duties from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m.). Obviously men and women are likely to have different jobs, reflecting their evolutionary directives and their strengths/weaknesses.

Selection pressures are also relieved when an individual shows much promise in his/her specialization. A board of experts in the specialization will convene to determine if, at age 18, the youth has the promise to become an artificer, generally denoting the highest level of the craft. If the answer is yes, the youth is exempted from military service and watched for three years in further specializing in his/her craft. If the answer is once again yes, he/she is never dragged to war unless a general conscription is called. Considering the extreme humanist/utilitarian principles of this state, the highest goal of the state is to produce the 1% in any craft. This is not a civilization that says platitudes like "it's alright to be 2nd place," and is one that provides as many incentives as possible to reach for 1st place. Likewise, anyone who attains artificer level mastery of his/her specialization is further spared military service.

If the craft is military-related, he/she is knighted and thus is paid by the state to fight, prepare to fight, train others to fight, lead others in a fight (enough that they can pay taxes and still be well off). Knights, nobles, and those aged 18-21 are the first to be called to war. Then, it's ages 21-40. Then, it's ages 40-65. 65 and over can fight as volunteers if they wish but will never be forced to war. In general, knights serve as sergeants for the ten-man based squads of Hamorian Legions, called centurions for convenience. They lead their squads to war and if one tries to retreat, it is the centurion's job to kill that person. Hamorians rarely retreat when not ordered to, of course. All soldiers are paired, and it is the responsibility of the partner to stop the other from retreating. The youth know that their friends and family members are in other areas in the battle. The middle-aged folks know their children are some place on the battlefield. The eldest are the most decorated, well-armed and armored due to their relative wealth, and most experienced troops to have survived into old age. They also know their children and grandchildren are somewhere on the battlefield. Centuries of extreme natural selection and the relative health/nutrition of elder Hamorians allow them to fight without the quite the detrimental weaknesses that accompany old age. Being the most experienced, well-equipped, and motivated troops, add to the fact that they survived to old age in a society like Hamor, makes the elderly the best shock troops or line-holding infantry Hamor can field. This also reflects the greater social standing of the elderly in society, which is in general greatest (most political rights and economic influence, before they go senile).

A meritocracy wouldn't be a meritocracy without upward mobility. Incompetent noble families can be demoted to be replaced by a particularly promising commoner. A legislative body of appointed or elected elders who have 1) survived as a Hamorian into old age, which means they survived many battles 2) have retired, which means they earned enough gold to afford it 3) experts in their respective administrative fields, pass most of the laws. The Duke can veto, or implement the laws with some editing. The primary role of the Duke is to oversee the many, many wars that Hamor fights, review the performance of top officials and nobles, set tax levels, judge cases in which the precedent can affect the entirety of the Duchy, curb factionalism, ensure growth, appoint judges/generals/top administrators, and safeguard the freedoms of the citizens. Nobles are representatives of the Duke in their respective holdings.

On religion: emphasis on individual choice but the tithe is too inefficient, random, and thus abolished as soon as the Duchy was rich enough that the Bernese King wouldn't complain and strong enough that the Church can't do shit about it. Ecclesiastical holdings are seized. Church officials are paid by the state, and required to have useful functions and specializations befitting their standing (expert theology would be a minimum, but skills with staves, psychology, oration, and whatnot would be considered useful). They are taxed. Most Hamorians believe in the doctrine; this is after all before the great age of atheism that is the 20th century. It's just that they believe religion is more efficient this way, and God help the teeny bopping priest in this Duchy's churches. The Church, loathe to lose believers and such militant and wealthy believers at that, are forced to send their best here.

Like the olden days, there simply is not enough resource to go around to make everyone the perfect model citizen. Even paper used to cost a lot of money. The nobility are families bred for leadership and strength. Because natural selection is so stringent on the average Hamorian, natural selection is tougher for nobles so that they deserve to be nobles for such upstanding citizens. Since the nobility get better education, they're held to higher standards and the incentives for excellence more drastic; incompetents are executed whereas incompetent commoners would just get exiled. This necessitates a system of checks and balances such as annual reviews and whatnot that professional businesses today use. Since Hamor is such a specialized society, one can expect a board of peers in practically every aspect of life. This is similar to the guild system that the Florentines had in the Renaissance.

All in all, this kind of a civilization would either die out early by losing too many to natural selection or have a tough time early on and then flourish into the most powerful civilization (Rome, Sparta, Mongols to name a few). Ruthlessly efficient allocation of resources, extreme specialization and professionalism, and very powerful incentive mechanisms combined with several centuries' worth of rigorous natural selection. Emphasis on individual property rights and individual liberties promotes creativity and enterprise. Political checks and balances to ensure proper leadership in war and peace and to limit vested interest. Enlightened dictatorship to eliminate the extremes of factionalism.

As the head of Hamor, its Duke/Duchess has to undergo even more brutal natural selection than all the others do in order to be worthy. Being a utilitarian society, this process usually does not result in death (the state invested too much in the kid) though it does give a clear indication of which child is most fit to be heir. In Kayleth's generation, many many things went wrong in this process and three of Kayleth's four siblings died. That is why he wants revenge, and to have his father accounted for incompetence, which readers may have realized by now that Kayleth uses as the worst insult he can possibly think of other than "unprofessional" and "amateur". That is why he feels guilty over having massacred rebels; not that they were innocent, but that he was so incompetent as to not see what he was doing, and he only feels the guilt absolved after the events of FE7. He was engineered to be the apex predator in a society of apex predators, not to be fooled by a lesser being.

Civil strife is rare and occurs only when members of the Ducal family disagree with one another because 1) others who started one were killed in particularly spectacular fashions 2) the Ducal family, owing to the harshest selection pressures, are competent enough to stop most 3) the people know their Duke/Duchess is the most competent being they could produce as a collective. Among Ducal family members, though, Hamorians decide competence lies with the victor. This is the ultimate selection pressure, which is happening in this story. Hamorians are free to choose sides, depending on who they think will be the better leader and whose side would allow them greater chances at survival. In this, the Duke/Duchess is given the advantage due to his/her experience conferring a greater chance of being right about whatever matter the family's disagreeing over since Winterfell is home to Hamor's most elite knightly Legions.

That all served basically one purpose: to explain what kind of an environment Kayleth survived and why he is what he is. It's not a kind culture and I hope we never see a civilization like it except in video games or other media. Thankfully, it would never happen in reality unless another madman like Stalin but even more perverse and retarded comes to power.

This sort of a system becomes counterproductive in the modern world, of course, where there are enough resources as well as proof in the history of human ingenuity in bureaucracy, sciences, and the technologies to overcome resource barriers. If Kayleth reaches the modern world, he would recognize that as well, and strive to build the most efficient system given the realities of modernity.

Note: eugenics is a theory, and a discredited one at that. Genetics isn't so simple that you can get a couple of Nobel Prize winning Physicists to mate and expect with a certainty a decent physicist out of their children. Although that would be hard considering few women win the physics one. It certainly is not as simple as Hitler thought it to be, but then he always saw in science what he wanted, not what was true. However, selective breeding has proven to be successful in animals to some degree over centuries' worth of it (bigger cows able to provide more meat, etc) and it would make sense that this result would apply to humans as well in some respects. Care to guess why most of the athletes in NBA and NFL are black? Eugenics in slavery-driven South is the answer. When you have the biggest male and the biggest female mate on purpose, and for centuries at that, what else did you expect?


	7. A Specter from the Past

"Auntie," Alice groaned in embarrassment as she was ordered to change her clothes for the sixth time in the evening.

Kayleth was not amused by his aunt's moving Alice's tent to her Legion's camp. To be more than a hundred feet from her irritated him. To not be able to check on her at a moment's notice was distressful. To have her harmed under his guardianship was to fail Alice four times over, for his three long-deceased siblings would have been there to defend her if not for him.

He did agree with the principle behind it, though. The future Duchess had to be seen by the citizens of Hamor as much as possible. A number of young noblemen and Knights had already approached Kayleth and his aunt for permission to court her. Kayleth had yet to see one worthy of licking the excrement off his sister's wyvern's arse.

The tactician was being unreasonable of course, but he had saved Elibe from a second Scouring. He thought he had earned the right to be unreasonable, cantankerous, belligerent, and possessive. That's how Lyn had described it, anyways. Anyhow, he'd be damned if she were married before she experienced what it meant to be Duchess.

As much as Kayleth wanted to give Alice the freedom of choice, and it would be given to some extent, she had chosen to be Duchess Hamor, mistress of Winterfell and the leader of the most feared Legions in all of Elibe. In choosing to be Duchess, she had forfeited certain rights, and free marriage was one of them. It was her duty to produce the strongest heirs and that necessarily limited the pool of eligible bachelors.

Unlike the nobility of other Duchies, Hamorian nobles often married outside their class. Social standing was a tertiary consideration. Desirable traits in offspring, such as determination, keen perception, the will to do what is necessary, and quick learning were prized above all others. A law had been passed eight centuries ago to ban any exchange of property between families of the bride and the groom, in addition to stringent investigation inquiring into the use of intermediaries. The law effectively took material considerations out of the picture.

Added with Kayleth's stringent standards, and the pool became a backyard pond Hamorians liked to build for aesthetical purposes: tiny little things. He personally knew of, perhaps, three if he was being generous.

"But it's been such a long time since I've dressed you," Kayleth's aunt pouted in such a way that made Alice flinch and give in to overwhelming guilt.

Countess Teletha was his father's sister, a possible heir to the throne at Winterfell until she was married off to the Count of Ashwick. She was an exceptionally competent operative in her own right. It was she who taught him his obsessive compulsiveness, for she had eyes for detail like no other and, Kayleth was certain, unmatchable multitasking skills. The results of her work spoke for themselves. A great majority of Hamorian nobles who had received her correspondence replied that they were willing to join the Prince's cause if the Duke's agents watching over them were removed; all this was done in the space of a little more than a week.

Kayleth sometimes wondered if she had killed her husband. Unlikely but it was an interesting question. His bloodline was almost never accused of lacking in ambition.

Anyhow, it was quite clear that she meant to dress Alice up in every dress she had brought and she had an impressive wardrobe. Countess Teletha's County was one of the most prosperous even in Hamor, and her recipe for the mass-production of quality mead made her one of the wealthiest people in all of Elibe. This pretext gave Kayleth and his aunt plenty of time to converse without fear of being interrupted by anyone less than Lyn, and all but one person in the Prince's army was less than Lyn.

"You should have gotten her a maid," Teletha said with a great deal of reproach, and even Kayleth would have been sucked into her rhythm had he not been on guard. "A Hamorian one. Every princess should have one."

"Too risky. They keep track of their whereabouts. I think twenty three passed the examination last year?"

"That was for courtesans. Fifteen passed last year. An unusual low, but still."

Kayleth sighed. "Fine, aunt Teletha. I apologize for not contacting you sooner."

"Apology accepted, my dear nephew," Teletha beamed.

"You do realize why, right?"

"Not at all. Inexcusable," the Countess sniffed.

"I wasn't sure you'd join my side, to go against your own brother."

The tactician saw the woman's color drain from her face at being reminded of that prospect. She was not thrilled to think it in that way. Victory would require Duke Calgar's death. No half-hearted measure could satisfy the citizens of the Duchy.

"I was not sure either. However, I am I and in my veins runs the same bloodline you were born from. I know what my duty is, and it is to select the best rulers I can for the Duchy and the kingdom. I don't know where it went wrong but my brother… my dear brother has failed. He has failed in matters of such import that it cannot be forgiven as a matter of both duty and family."

"What if I told you, aunt Teletha, that I stopped a second Scouring?"

"Hypothetical? Reality? By the gods, you mean reality, don't you?"

"The Black Fang was supporting an incredibly powerful mage who could suck energy out of humans and dragons. Said mage tried to open the Dragon's Gate-"

"Which was sealed by the Archsage and Brammimond."

"Yet, he succeeded in destroying those seals with sheer magical force. The first time, well, he got stabbed. The second time, we had the Archsage and four Divine Weapons to aid us. We even killed three dragons before shutting the Gate down."

"You met the Archsage?!" Teletha's lips curled. "I hope you killed the bastard in the end."

"He died anyways, sacrificing his longevity spell to make the final seal on the Gate."

"I suppose his absenteeism is mildly excusable, then."

"You're going to believe me?"

"This isn't a hypothetical. I'd know. I can only assume it's reality, then, coming from you."

"Well, my point is that I don't think I would've led that army to victory against the Black Fang without the training I had."

"There is-"

"My training for magical resistance saved me on two occasions. The first would have spelled doom for the army I was leading. The Lords to whom most of the army owed fealty to consisted of a retarded idealist, one who was good-natured enough to take me for a husband, and an idiot. I did what it took to make that army victorious."

"… I'll grant the magical resistance part, but not the latter. You would have done it anyways."

"But not as well as I did, and most certainly without as much conviction."

"You know what they say about ifs and buts."

"In the hypothetical, my father prevented the second Scouring."

"In reality, you prevented the second Scouring."

"How can you be sure?"

Teletha shrugged. "You are the most ambitious our bloodline has produced since the Third, and that was nine hundred years ago. You would've found a way to be victorious, with or without your experience."

"I'm glad at least you are of the view. I can never be certain."

"Even if a second Scouring happened, there's no way the dragons recouped their numbers as quickly as we did. We would have won, and you and most of your siblings alive to see the triumph. I couldn't care less if most others on Elibe died in the process."

"That is why I will kill my brother and his wife." The Countess's right hand clenched into a fist. "You and your siblings should have been mine, and this would never have happened, but that was not so. What is so is that I am a Countess of Hamor, and I am in a position to bring about justice; and justice is in this instance the execution of Calgar and Viviane for criminal incompetence and gross dereliction of duty. So yes… I am ready to soil my hands with the blood of my blood. Alice will become Duchess, you will be regent, and the Duchy will get back on its course. Such is my duty to the realm and my bloodline."

* * *

"Five Legions and some auxiliaries," Sigismund said while looking through a spyglass.

"Send out a probing party?" Brenya suggested.

"They sent one. It'd be rude not to wipe them out," Kayleth activated his communication stones. "Vanguard teams beta and gamma, engage enemy probing party. Weapons free. Fire, fire, fire!"

Twenty two Hamorian scouts engaged the probing party of perhaps twelve. Only the best were selected to be scouts in Hamor, for they had the task of dispatching the enemies' scouts and rendering them blind as the Legions surrounded them and massacred them. Their enemies were not to know until the noose tightened around their necks.

Five of the enemies died immediately, riddled with arrows or burned by magical fires.

One of their riders urged his horse forth, and Kayleth recognized it as a measure to buy time for his comrades to escape. Not that it would work. The protocol was not designed for use against other Hamorian Legions.

The first two of Kayleth's troops to reach the rider were beheaded in one bone-crushing blow. The tactician was surprised at the power behind the blow, but he left himself vulnerable to counter-attack.

The next stabbed at the horse with his lance, but the rider's gauntlet deflected it. The rider was fast, drawing a hand-axe from his back and burying it in the face of the axeman charging at him from the left. Meanwhile, his other hand used the momentum of gravity to diagonally cut through the spearman engaging him from the right leg to the left shoulder.

Kayleth's scouts recognized the threat of this rider, and five of them grouped before trying to surround him in a semicircle. The rider recognized the pattern and did not let them complete it, jumping off his horse to bisect the swordsman to his right.

Fifteen of the scouts were slaughtered in the same methodical manner. The rider remained untouched, and his horse unscathed. Even the two centurions attached to the scouts were killed, which was nothing short of appalling.

"Retreat," Kayleth hissed. "Squad alpha, cover their retreat."

Even this turned out to be a mistake. The rider charged. Magic and projectiles lashed out at the rider, but they proved useless in stopping his momentum. Kayleth ordered Heath and Vaida to go kill the rider.

The rider carved through eight more of Kayleth's scouts before Heath and Vaida stopped them.

While Kayleth thought that would be fatal, the rider had yet to be grazed. He held off Heath and Vaida before Kayleth ordered them out, seeing the rest of the rider's squad arrive to assist him.

The rider took off his helm, and took a cloak off a dead scout to wipe the gore off it.

Kayleth knew he recognized that face. That was because he lived nearly twelve years of his life without ever being more than a mile from him.

A glance at his aunt told the tactician that he was not seeing hallucinations. Yet, it was impossible; he had seen the man hang for his crime fourteen years ago. He had murdered Kayleth's eldest sibling.

That man had committed fratricide, and the sentence was death by hanging.

Tetrark, the eldest son of the House of Winterfell and one of the greatest warriors Bern had seen in centuries, walked the battlefield once more.

That he was a great warrior was a minor complication to Kayleth. This was not Elibe of some seven centuries past when there were so few humans that one warrior could change the outcome of a battle. What concerned him more was whether he should kill him. His existence at least dispelled any lingering doubts Kayleth had about his parents. They were going to die and know that the cause they fought for was both futile and wrong.

The real question was whether he should take his brother dead or alive. The other, perhaps, was whether he should inform Alice about it.

"All forces retreat," Kayleth said. "A Legion of the levies we received a couple of days ago will garrison the first series of outposts. I don't care which. I suggest drawing straws. All other forces, fall back to our campsite from two days ago."

"We're retreating?" Zephiel asked. "I thought you were going to press onwards to Winterfell within the next three weeks."

"Your Highness, this is a temporary setback at best. This retreat will allow me to preserve the lives of more productive citizens than possible otherwise. I know the enemy's commander, and this is the best way to destroy him. Only about four hundred levies should die in this route."

"Four hundred's not bad," Sigismund conceded. It looked like Sigismund and Murdock recognized his brother, too, or at least suspected. Most people who mattered in Hamor attended the execution. It was as close as his father had ever gotten to a public admission of his fault.

"Your mission is to attack before the foe even realizes that the war has begun, to strike hard at those vital weaknesses that all armies possess, but that no commander will admit to. In this case, it is the commander. Did you see how slow the four other Legions were to move in and support the vanguard? They're not eager for this war either way. They'll throw their lot in with the side that gives them the best chances for survival. Hamorians are a pragmatic people after all. We kill their commander and most of his Legion and the rest will join us. For that to happen, we need to retreat."

"Alright, alright. All forces, retreat. Why am I leaving a Legion behind?"

"Bait," Kayleth replied. "We're leaving some supplies behind for them to capture, too. For two days they'll push us back and gather confidence. When that confidence borders on arrogance, we will destroy them utterly."

* * *

"Thirty seven casualties. The rest have regrouped at the next outpost." Sigismund concluded his report on the Legion used as bait. Kayleth was mildly surprised that so many survived.

As troops went, most levies were bound to be next to worthless unless one managed to levy a former mercenary or soldier. Most of the mainstay Legions of Elibe were composed of Knights, whose jobs were to train, maintain their gear, and fight. The average levies could not possibly outmatch the Knights in terms of training, equipment, and experience.

It was different in some cases, of course. There were those who debated the merits of courage and experience on the field of battle. Kayleth came on the side of courage. Courage can sometimes make a virtue of inexperience. He had commanded several inexperienced squads that have achieved great things because they were too inexperienced to realize their goal was impossible. The army he had led against Nergal was one such example. Those who were experienced in that army simply did not care or were Knights. Inexperience was key to their final victory. They put trust in Kayleth where more experienced soldiers would never have. They had confidence in victory and courage to back it up where more experienced soldiers would have recognized a lost cause. That was why Kayleth had a special regard for soldiers that served against Nergal. They had performed beyond his wildest expectations.

In general, though, levies tended to be worthless on a wider scale. Inexperience was acceptable, but not when it had them running after losing less than two fifths of the soldiers. In general, levies started running after thirty percent casualties. Knights started running after sixty percent casualties. Hamorians, Praetorians, Ilia's mercenary Knights, or Etruria's Mage Corps Guards did not run unless told to do so. That was why those four armies were feared across the continent. The enemies could be winning in terms of sheer numbers but they would still rout before those four groups did. Experience was all well and good but discipline was king of battle just as logistics was king of war. Truly well-disciplined troops were concerned only with their mission and generally unperturbed by the plight of their comrades other than noting that they were losing allied assets.

That was why Hamorian Legionnaires were paired with complete strangers. They cared little for each other but they knew they had kinsmen somewhere in the Legion. Neither would allow the other to flee when those kinsmen's lives were at stake and by force if necessary. If even that failed, there was that centurion attached to every squad and that centurion had thousands of gold in equipment and years of experience on the would-try-to-be deserter. That was the secret behind the initial success of Hamorian Legions. Over time, those customs grew to be more of a formality and tradition than a necessity. Cowardice had been bred out of Hamorians genetically and culturally. There was hardly ever a need for field execution these days.

Hamor's centurions instead had their hands full with killing the incompetent, the cowardly, and the treacherous in allied Legions. They were loathed by the weak, but their perceived cruelty did serve a purpose. The allied Legions would think twice before abandoning the sides of a Hamorian Legion because after the battle the centurions would come and hunt down them down, and they knew very well they could not defeat a group of centurions. After the civil war that almost tore Bern apart seven centuries ago, Hamorian centurions were empowered by the King to such a degree that they could even execute allied nobility for incompetence, cowardice, or treachery without trial on the battlefield.

Ever since then, Bernese nobles who knew themselves to be incompetent, cowardly, or treacherous never took to the battlefield when operating with a Hamorian Legion. While operating at the side of one was almost always a guarantor of victory, it also meant the scrutiny of Hamorian centurions. It was among these centurions that the Duke honored with membership in the House of the Valiant. It was among the House of the Valiant that the Kings of Bern plucked out their best Praetorians.

Anyhow, levies were liabilities dragged up for no reasons other than filling the ranks, using them as garrisons, and using them as bait or cavalry charge-fodder. Losing even five Legions of them just to kill one Hamorian Legion was more than an acceptable trade as far as Kayleth or most other level-headed strategists were concerned.

Kayleth's tent held the three Wyvern Generals, Sigismund, Athielle, Countess Teletha, and Lyn. They were the only ones, other than Lyn and Vaida, in the army who had seen his brother on many occasions up close and recognized him. They all knew the circumstances behind his hanging. This was the story that had set Lyn completely against Kayleth's parents.

"Kayleth?" Lyn shook the tactician, getting him out of his mindscape. He noted with disgruntlement that his hallucination of his uncle was still present. It was a good indicator of the level of his stress.

"He must be killed," Kayleth spat, though he had no idea what they had been talking about for the past five minutes or fifty minutes. "He is the glue that holds that army together. In strategic terms, I cannot allow him to live. In terms of duty, I cannot allow him to live. In personal terms… I still cannot allow him to draw breath."

"… Eh?" Vaida had no idea what he was talking about.

"General Vaida, this conversation is no longer pertinent to you. You are dismissed, although you are free to stay of course," Kayleth always found reverse psychology to be useful against her.

"Bah. I've got to get some more drills into my Wyvern Knights," Vaida said as she exited the tent.

Silence reigned as the group tried to come to grips with Kayleth's outburst.

"So we're all sure we saw Tetrark, yes?" Sigismund said.

"Older than he was, maybe, but still the same face," Countess Teletha groaned. "The same pale skin from spending too much time in his armor. The same golden hair and green eyes. He always did take after Viviane more than my brother."

"And all of us saw his hanging, yes?" Kayleth's eyes glinted, trying to detect any hesitation in those present. If any had known his brother was alive, Kayleth would kill him or her. "All of us know why he deserved to be hanged, yes?"

"Only Calgar, Viviane, and Nestor could have known," his aunt said. "Perhaps they put him in one of those mental institutions, though only God knows why. It was quite clear that he was mad beyond all help."

"He insinuated that Sofiya killed Stella, which is of course madness. She fell off her horse when a snake scared it and hit her head on a rock. It was instant. Considering even I hadn't considered killing Stella, and I was in the Western Isles, it's impossible Sofiya planned it."

"Not necessarily impossible-"

"You don't know Sofiya as I did, Murdock. It is impossible. She was never much of a decider, least of all in a matter of parricide. The race was always between me and Stella, and she knew very well she could not catch up with her older brother."

"What race are we talking about?" Lyn asked.

"To become heir of our House. There is no other race. None that matters, anyways. Sofiya was astute and perceptive, but indecisive. Tetrark was decisive and a terror on the battlefield, but not particularly perceptive or well-learned. Stella was astute and cunning, but she lacked logic and decisiveness. In my father's perspective, I was logical, well-learned, and ambitious enough to institute some reforms to our system, and at the time the Duchy needed a leader of my archetype more than it did the others'. To translate, Sofiya would have had more motive to kill me than she would Stella. I emphasize again, she was not the type who'd do that."

"Assuming it is Tetrark, what do we do?" Teletha asked, dreading Kayleth's answer.

"For the crime of fratricide without reason, Lord Tetrark of Winterfell is sentenced to death, the sentence to be carried out at the earliest convenience. I will kill him myself. Now, if you will excuse me," Kayleth said as he jumped back into his mindscape, effectively dismissing everyone in the tent but Lyn.

"Kayleth, you don't have to do this," Lyn hissed as soon as the rest left.

His hallucination of his uncle whispered in a sly tone, "What if he's innocent? What if you missed something? You've always been quicker to judge. Among your siblings, Sofiya was the investigator, not you."

"I must. He has gone insane, unable to withstand the pressure that my parents exerted on him. Nevertheless, he is my brother, Lyn. You wouldn't understand-"

Lyn slapped him with her considerable strength, rocking Kayleth out of his mindscape. "You promised you wouldn't be condescending. In terms of human relationship, I would understand most things better than you would!"

The tactician calmed down. For all the time they had been together, Lyn had yet to understand that physical pain meant nothing to him. However, he had to concede her points. She was by far better at caring and understanding than he. Lyn cared about people where he did not give a rat's ass. She felt where he felt mild contempt and irritation. Lyn was his perfect counterbalance.

Kayleth might not be the most understanding of husbands, but he was certainly among the most loyal and hard working. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that. I meant that you don't have a sibling, Lyn, someone of your age you've known for most of your life with the same parents. The bond is… hard to describe, and I will try to describe it to you tomorrow. My point is that I cannot allow a sibling of mine to roam free and insane. Even if it were Alice, I'd have to do it. It has to be me that puts him to rest. Imagine if Florina…"

He was right in guessing that her name would bring out the right response in Lyn. Lyn was a quicker study in humans, certainly, but Kayleth had the advantage of decades of training and obsessive scrutiny. Given time, he could understand people almost as well as she could, and he had nearly a decade to study Lyn. She was one of his favorite subjects of observation, coming in a close second after Pearl and only because Pearl was so fundamentally different from him that it was fascinating to gauge her reactions.

"I'd try to find her help," Lyn said, not even convincing herself. Kayleth found her lack of conviction in most matters adorable. It was even cuter when she tried to manipulate him, attempts Kayleth only allowed himself to lose to when they cost little. It reminded him of how untainted were her hands, as untainted as any hands that took the lives of hundreds could be. Conversely, it reminded him of how tainted his were, though he had not taken any more than seven with his own hands.

As the heir of the Duchy, he was trained to have the strongest of convictions unless given plausible data to think otherwise. Judgment was as easy as breathing for him in most cases. Admittedly this situation with his brother, long-thought dead, was an exception.

"My parents would have gotten him the best psychologists Hamor could produce, Lyn. It obviously didn't work. He killed my sister for an imagined slight. He is mad beyond any hope of recovery. The man he was before he went mad would want me to kill him. I have failed Tetrark once, Lyn. I will not fail him twice, and nothing in the world could stop me."

* * *

For two days, the Prince's forces routed. Tetrark's forces gave chase. Kayleth knew his advisors would have told him to stop pursuing and regroup, for the Duke had probably sent this army to buy time and not to win.

However, his brother was a leader of cavalry charges and champion duelist for his Legion more than he was a thinker. Kayleth duly showed him only weaknesses, and Tetrark exploited those weaknesses. Over two days, almost a Legion of levies had been slaughtered and weeks' worth of supplies captured.

Tetrark and a coterie of cavalrymen, perhaps two dozen in all, were riding down the hapless levies fleeing for the shelter of a small wooden fort. Said hapless levies were on horses, though, and it was taking a long time for them to catch up. His supporting infantrymen were lagging behind.

The gate was closing, and levies rushed in to their sanctuary. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for Kayleth, Tetrark and his cavalrymen made it through just in time, too.

"Have a Legion of levies engage the pursuing infantry," Kayleth said through his communications stone. Killing was an activity that took time, even for near a hundred and seventy five Hamorian infantrymen for two hundred levies. It would be more than enough time to kill Tetrark and all his men, put his head on a pike, and have his remaining Legions switch sides.

"All forces, attack," Kayleth blew his horn signaling a general offensive for all troops in the fort. The fort had been stuffed with as many troops as he could hide, and among them were the soldiers of his personal Legion. There was no way Tetrark would survive.

He recognized this, and turned towards the gate, but the gate was closed.

Heavily armored soldiers wielding halberds, pikes, and other anti-cavalry weapons approached as a wall of death. Tetrark's guards fell quickly.

Tetrark, on the other hand, had taken up two halberds and was using them to defend himself with the ferocity of a cornered wolf. Twenty seven soldiers had already been slaughtered by his weapons, and the magi Kayleth had stationed at the watchtowers did little damage to him. Tetrark had, after all, gone through the same training as Kayleth did. He would have prodigious magical resistance.

"All forces, back off. Murdock, Bartre, Wallace, Heath, Elcie, Alleria, Malvator, and Nino, engage the enemy commander. Alice, stand by for a dive on my mark. Do not wear your helmet. It will be useless against this rider."

The infantrymen surrounding Tetrark backed off, grateful that they were out of range of that whirlwind of death. Arrows bounced off Tetrark's well-forged and enchanted armor. Even Rebecca and Wil were failing to do any visible damage to him.

Heath took a dive at Tetrark first, and Kayleth's heart almost stopped as he crashed heavily into a wall, knocking down the weak wood. His wyvern, Hyperion, suffered from a cut that extended from its shoulder to its tail. It would likely bleed to death without medical attention.

"Reverend Hale, please check on Heath. Everyone else, approach him with more caution. Lorene, you are authorized to use the Luna tome. Complete casting on my mark. Ballistae teams alpha through delta, fire!"

Unfortunately the ballistae missed. One even killed two of Kayleth's own soldiers. The crew that fired that round would have to be executed later for criminal incompetence. He didn't expect any of them to hit, but he could always hope for the most bloodless and convenient solution.

Bartre, Wallace, and Murdock charged first, relying on their heavy armor to give themselves an opening. The opening was closed swiftly as Tetrark's halberd caught Bartre's shoulder, almost bisecting him diagonally had it not been for the extra silver pauldron armoring the shoulder. He had obviously lost all feeling in the limb attached to it, though, and backed off.

Nino successfully struck Tetrark with a blast of Elfire, but a hand-axe flew back in return. Jaffar pushed her aside just in time to take it in his own stomach.

Alleria, one of Kayleth's Falcoknights who were on loan from Fiora, dived in from behind the wall to surprise Tetrark. She was nearly successful, but she had not coordinated her move with Murdock and Wallace. A tomahawk Murdock had thrown missed Tetrark and instead took the wing of Alleria's mount. Noticing her presence by the Pegasus's cry of pain, Tetrark severed the head of the crashing Falcoknight. Kayleth's head started to ache, wondering how he'd replace such a useful subordinate and what excuse he'd offer Fiora.

Kayleth realized that he had vastly underestimated his brother's fighting prowess. He was even better than he was a decade and more ago. He realized that Tetrark must have been let loose to have such experience. He wondered why his parents would harbor, and even let loose, an insane killing machine.

Murdock and Wallace were being driven back, their armor chipped and scarred by the flurry of blows Tetrark dealt them. Elcie, a Hero in Kayleth's employ for seven years now, engaged from the side to relieve the pressure. He was killed when Tetrark abandoned his focus on Murdock and Wallace completely, taking Elcie by surprise.

"Malvator, go berserk, now!" Kayleth snapped. "Lorene, now!"

The air tingled with otherworldly energies as the Luna spell was triggered. To Kayleth's disappointment, it missed. Still, with that distraction and two hundred and more pounds of dual axe-wielding berserk flesh, Murdock and Wallace were able to get back on the offensive.

"Kayleth, I need to join this," Lyn said.

The tactician had no intention of risking a mother of two to his mad brother. "Alice, dive!"

"Are you sure? He's bound to see me at this angle you know?"

"Just do it, and veer off before you get in range of those lances!" Kayleth hissed.

Alice launched off the watchtower she was posted at, and charged at the enemy commander. She guessed that she had a good amount of time to veer off before getting into weapons range.

Tetrark saw the Wyvern Knight, and prepared to use the fool's angle to his advantage. Reversing his direction, he checked the berserker with the non-business end of one of his lances, and then cut across his chest. The armor prevented the berserker from dying, but he was taken out of the fight.

When Tetrark looked up to check the Wyvern Knight's progress, he noticed that it was a woman, and the woman did not have a helmet on.

The woman had golden hair and green eyes, and features so remarkably similar to his mother's and Stella's that he wondered if Stella was alive.

Alice veered away, and the distraction cost Tetrark his guard. Wallace drove a lance through Tetrark's abdomen and pinned him against the wall. Murdock deflected one of his lances and his axe sliced through the weak armor at the joint of his elbow. Tetrark screamed in frustration and pain as Murdock knocked aside his other lance as well.

"Signal the nobles that they should turn on the loyalists now," Kayleth said, and three balls of magical fire were launched from the skies towards the woods where Kayleth's decoy Legion was getting slaughtered.

Countess Teletha had contacted the nobles who wanted to replace the Duke and the King some days ago, and as one they turned against the relatively few loyalist nobles and agents in their Legions. The Prince's own Legions moved into support the would-be rebels.

"Clean this place up. Get everybody out as soon as possible," Kayleth told Urumi before taking mounting Elaine and flying to his dying brother's side.

Tetrark, Kayleth noted, looked quite similar to the Tetrark of his nightmares. The subject of his siblings' death was a recurring theme in Kayleth's nightmares, especially when he was stressed. That the one who began it all lived was galling to him.

Tetrark's eyes widened. "You? It can't be… Kayleth?"

"I am Lord Kayleth of Winterfell, Baron and Marquess-consort of Caelin. As a peer of the realm I find you, Tetrark of Winterfell, guilty of premeditated murder and fratricide. Have you anything to say in your defense?"

"Yes! Sofiya murdered Stella!" Tetrark roared, and Kayleth could see that he still believed in that fairy tale.

"It was an accident. There is no proof linking Stella's death to Sofiya, and you know Sofiya would-"

"No, but she always had among us the strongest sense of duty. I don't know why she killed Stella but she did it nonetheless. Kugh!" Tetrark paused to cough up some more blood.

"And your proof being?" Kayleth rolled his eyes.

"You would have seen it to if you were there at Stella's funeral! I was the only one watching her, but-"

"To conclude, no physical evidence?"

"Kayleth, I was trained the-"

Kayleth snorted, "You think you were my equal?"

"No, but you know I had similar training. You know I wouldn't kill Sofiya without good reason."

"Save your conspiracy theories for whatever beings occupy the same circle of hell you will be going to. I have some questions for you, and I can make your death less painful if you answer them."

Tetrark would have screamed in frustration if he had the strength, but he was bleeding profusely and knew he did not have much time. "If you answer one of mine, I will. Was that Stella?"

"Of course not. That was Alice, future Duchess of Hamor."

"… I see. Tell her I give her my blessings-"

"She's forgotten you. She was after all, barely four," Kayleth spat. "Now. I think my father had a hand behind your survival. Correct?"

"Yes… a paralysis potion."

"Why did he keep you alive?"

"I was never told. I was employed as an assassin for all these years, but I was locked up when I was not on an assignment."

"What is my father planning? Why did he send you? He must have known five Legions could not hold off my Legions."

"I… d-don't… k-know," Tetrark groaned again as he vomited the contents of his lunch.

"Very well. Tetrark, you betrayed the trust and love Sofiya and I had for you. You must have been stressed, yes, but never enough to commit fratricide," Kayleth grimaced in disgust. "You are no longer my brother, and you are certainly not Alice's brother. I hope there is a special place in hell reserved for you, parricide. Say your prayers."

"Long life… and h-happiness for you and A-Alice." Kayleth raised an eyebrow. It seemed insanity had affected his brother in the strangest way.

Kayleth snapped his brother's neck. It was easier than he had expected. Sofiya was now partly avenged. He had honored the memory of the sane Tetrark who was his brother.

The tactician listened to reports from his lieutenants as Alice landed close to him. The reports told him of total victory, and nearly five Hamorian Legions had thrown their lot in with the Prince's cause. The three scores or so of die-hard loyalists had been killed or captured.

"Did you know him?" Alice asked, studying Tetrark.

"Yes. Better than I know all but perhaps eight people, in fact."

"You were close to him?" Alice sympathized with her brother, thinking back to Nestor's death. "I'm sorry… who was he?"

"One of the best warrior-philosophers Elibe had seen in centuries. A close friend of mine, though he was lost when you were four. His loss was a tragedy."

"Lost? But he's back."

"Not really. That's just his shell. Went mad, I'm afraid."

"What was his name?"

Kayleth considered for a moment, but decided he could not risk it. Not yet. "I will tell you when the time is right, Alice."

"But you lost someone close to you. It's good to talk about these things, you know, and I'm your sister," Alice pouted.

"Yes… you are my only sibling, and if you wish it, I would serve you Elibe on a silver platter, but not now. Go ahead first and greet your future subjects. I will be there momentarily."

Alice wondered whether she could push it or not, but decided not to, and nodded, earning her a smile and a pat on the head. She flew towards the Legions that had recently declared for the Prince, joined in the air by a dozen Wyvern Knights who were assigned to guard her.

"Urumi, salt and preserve this body," Kayleth ordered his second, and looked around the battlefield. Despite the loss of hundreds of levies and some actually useful soldiers, this was a remarkable victory.

A famous general had once said that only defeat could be half as sorrowful as a battle won. By that measure, Kayleth could not imagine how painful defeat would be. He sat on the ground next to his brother, and reminisced about their childhood. Tetrark was as good an older brother as any could ask for.

It was all the more reason to kill his parents for driving him, however unintentionally, to insanity. That much he promised to the memory of the brother he remembered.

* * *

Omake

Kayleth knew there were many alien races out there in the stars, but a race of overgrown insects was not one to capture his imagination. The Protoss called them Zerg, and the humans of Koprulu Sector were not in any position to stop them.

The descendants of degenerates and petty criminals lived 60,000 light years from Earth, but left unchecked, the Zerg would eventually arrive at the birthplace of humanity.

"The Old Families are bloated with fat. Too soft. They'd never be able to rally humanity against the Zerg," Pearl said, munching on her third honey glazed doughnut of the day.

Over the tens of thousands of years of their lives, and the countless battles they've fought, Pearl had become quite inured to the sight of monstrosities.

"Helmsman, take us on a course to Umoja," Kayleth said.

"Not Korhal?" Pearl picked through her fourth doughnut.

"No. I am not in the business of replacing a group of tyrants with one tyrant."

"How about me? I'd make a good Empress."

"Of course you would, but this sector has no history of you. If only we could find a symbol... but not as ambitious as Mengsk."

"What about that Marshall... Jim Raynor?" Pearl smirked as she brought up an image of his face. "Ruggedly charming, in an old West sort of way. Too brutish for my delicate sensibilities, but still, seems to play the role of 'hero' well enough."

"Maybe. We have to be careful. The business of this sector will decide the fate of humanity for centuries to come. Our servants in the UED are sending an invasion force."

"They'll be late."

"In the meantime, we need to learn as much as possible from these Protoss."

"They're no fun," Pearl pouted. "Can't read their expressions when I squeeze their breasts."

All the females on the bridge choked in terror and the males tried not to look aroused.

"... Aren't they too tall for that?" Kayleth knew his daughter's hobby well enough, but didn't know it extended to aliens.

"I can reach them if I stand on my toes," Pearl smiled lazily at the Protoss 'liaison' on board, who instinctively flinched away.

The Protoss probably thought Terrans had no sense of decency if they went by what they saw in Pearl.

"I would ask you to stop molesting me, Terran, but I've long since given up any hope in that direction," the Protoss sighed mentally. She had no idea what she was getting into when the Executor had told her that the Terran she would be liaising with had some eccentricities. The Terran apparently molested people whenever she was bored, even in front of her own lover and especially in front of her father.

"My apologies on my daughter's behalf, Templar," Kayleth said, without meaning a single word. The Protoss were so used to their collective consciousness that it was hard for them to lie, and even more so to detect a lie. When the Zerg threat was dealt with, the Protoss would be annihilated.

They had technologies that warped time and space. They were too dangerous to leave alive. Naturally, he'd have to steal those technologies first. The rules of physics applied to all aliens, and their mathematics and sciences operated on the same principles. Some were just more advanced than others.

"Please, didn't I ask you to call me Pearl?"

"As you wish... molester."

These Protoss were terribly conservative and hide-bound creatures. If it weren't for the tens of thousands of years they had on humanity, Kayleth suspected that they would have remained cave dwelling primates.

"Hail from the Gantrithor, sir," a communications officer said.

"Patch them through."

Tassadar's face appeared on the screen, and Pearl jumped on the liaison officer in time for Tassadar to see Pearl fondling her.

"... Is this a bad time, Aszagara?"

The female Protoss sputtered and flailed in the view of her idol, just as Pearl had planned. Pearl didn't know for sure about Protoss culture concerning cross-species relationships, but any race as proud as the Protoss could not be well-disposed to it.

"Executor?" Kayleth said.

"A Terran fleet is coming. The Protoss will not engage."

"And let the Zerg infection spread?" Kayleth raised an eyebrow. Many planets had been glassed to make sure the Zerg taint could not spread.

"I cannot condone the unexplained genocide of an obviously sentient race."

"Chau Sara has a few million citizens, at best."

"Even so. Our fleet is returning to Aiur."

"I would like to accompany you as humanity's representative in this conflict," Kayleth replied immediately. He felt sure that Aiur would be a motherlode of exotic technologies, just as the human-Covenant war had been.

Now that was a war Kayleth almost lost. Even Pearl almost died in that war, and she was a goddess on the battlefield. With the help of these Protoss, the war with the Zerg may not be as close.

Humanity remembered the losses it suffered against the Covenant, and they maintained an uneasy peace with the newborn Sangheili dominated Covenant. Perhaps the Protoss could start off on the right foot.

"I have no objections. Prepare your ship for warp travel. Follow the navigational directions the Gantrithor transmits. Do not do anything to alarm the home fleet."

All spacefaring species had a home fleet, it seemed. Thankfully Earth was not too badly damaged when the Covenant marched on it.

"Understood. _Highwind_ out."

The _Highwind_ was of the new generation of ships inspired by Covenant and Forerunner technologies. It was shielded, with plasma weaponry not too far behind the Protoss's. The traditional MACs and Archer-class missile pods remained, of course, just in case their enemies had thermal shields rather than kinetic shields. It was one of the ships authorized to carry Shiva-class nuclear missiles. Though not as big as the _Infinity_, it served Kayleth's purposes well enough. The UNSC was crawling with his servants in key but inconspicuous positions, such as the Ship Customization Board.

Kayleth's eyes rested on the camera in the cryo room.

Even more dangerous than the complement of Shiva the _Highwind_ carried, and humanity's salvation in this war also: one hundred and ninety nine of the new generation of Spartans, with one of the older generation that Pearl and Halsey especially loved.

Kayleth's hands deactivated cryo. Humanity was on a war footing for its survival once more. Pearl got the message on her screen and dashed away to greet her love.

* * *

Sorry about the delay. Assassin's creed 3 and Halo 4 distracted me. The omake was released December 15th though it has a partly Halo inspired theme.


	8. Truth and Forgiveness

Kayleth was surprised by what his eyes showed him. He would not have believed it without seeing it.

A single line of infantry was mowing down rows of heavy cavalry countering the currents of momentum and physics.

"They must have escaped from one of the Inner Duchies," Sigismund speculated. "We always knew they had arenas there, just out of the sight of our inspectors: arenas with slaves instead of freemen."

Kayleth was aware of what had happened. One of his informants in the heart of the Inner Duchies had sent word to him about a slave revolt. With the Legions of the Inner Duchies massing at rally points to march to the capital, the security for the arenas was at an all-time low. With a little help, a couple of weapons, some encouragement, and no great expectations, revolutionary agents managed to incite revolts in arenas where they held slaves.

Said slaves eventually slowed by horrific losses and numbers. There were six or seven hundred Inner Duchy troops for less than two hundred gladiators.

"We're going to have to do this the hard way," Kayleth was not amused by the need for the hard way but he was always ready for it. "All Sacaen cavalry, Cantabarian Circle. All mounted Knights, flank them. Infantry of Legions one through five, form up and march side by side."

Arrows began to fly in support of the sagging line of gladiators as the most mobile of Kayleth's troops closed range. The enemy Legions reacted immediately by closing ranks and raising shields, waiting for the mounted barbarians to run out of arrows.

A typical Codicier tactic, and something Kayleth always used to his advantage.

"All mounted Knights, flank them even further. Cut off their line of retreat. Wyvern Knights, cover them. Infantry, replace the front ranks of the gladiators. Do not raise arms against the gladiators."

Thankfully, the gladiators were not so stupid as to raise arms against his troops. Considering how few of them were left, perhaps sixty and still being cut down by enemy arrows, he supposed they were grateful to find enemies of their enemies. Not necessarily friends but definitely enemies of their enemies.

"Long-ranged magicks, into the middle of their formations, loose!"

Thunder, light, and the occasional purple show of power from the elder gods wreaked havoc towards the back of the defensive formations of the Inner Duchy troops, where their magi and archers were concentrated.

"Set fire and release the pigs in herds one through three. Archers, shoot any pigs that turn direction. Chariot teams alpha through delta, charge."

Kayleth had only a few months to train the chariot teams, but the advantage of surprise in their use was undeniable, especially when he had armored bulls instead of horses rigged to the chariots. They were meant for little other than the shock value in breaking enemy lines, of course, but they did the job effectively enough before they were eventually killed. The gap they left in the lines were filled with burning pigs, a time-honored strategy since before the Scouring. Zephiel's army was having ham and bacon tonight.

"All Forlorn Hope units, charge first. All cavalry and fliers, charge in after them. Infantry move into support." Kayleth's orders were relayed through communication stones and signal-flags, but the troops knew what to do anyways. The enemy was already surrounded. They were to kill until the enemies surrendered.

Forlorn Hope units, Hamorian criminals who sought to redeem themselves in battle rather than rot away in prison, charged first. Armed with heavy two-bladed battleaxes, they charged into the enemy formations with reckless abandon. The enemies had heard stories about these soldiers, and knew to give them a wide berth. The openings created by the pigs and the chariot teams opened further, despite the best efforts of the enemy tacticians to establish containment procedures.

The enemy hoisted white flags soon after Kayleth's cavalry and fliers reached them.

"Too many prisoners," Murdock groaned.

"Thirty five casualties, mostly among the charioteers," Sigismund reported, listening through the voice traffic in the communication stones.

"Confiscate their weapons and let them go, I guess. It's the only practical measure available. Bring me the leader of the slaves. Your Highness, look regal."

"Look regal?" Zephiel raised an eyebrow.

"Meanwhile, pardons to all surviving Forlorn Hope units."

"Aren't they criminals?"

"They'll still fight for us," Kayleth shrugged. "Besides, living Hamorian criminals are only guilty of relatively mild crimes. Our Duchy makes rapists eat their own privates, after all. Thieves who aren't of the Guild don't have hands. Cowards who ran in battle don't have legs. Grave robbers get buried alive with starving rats. People who committed minor crimes while drunk are drowned in alcohol. Such people tend to die rather quickly, from starvation or otherwise. Speaking of which, slavery is allowed in Hamor under one condition. Captured slavers become slaves. Our justice system is very much a fan of poetic justice."

Eventually, a man in a suit of heavy armor arrived, no doubt scavenged when the gladiators broke free. He was blonde, suggesting Etrurian ancestry. Several other gladiators had come along with him.

Grease the right palms and corruption among the high nobility could take one very far in Etruria, far enough that one could enslave a village and nothing would be done about it.

"Your name?" Kayleth asked.

"I am Blaine."

"Is this the band that broke free in Capua?"

"It is."

"I take it you were enslaved?"

The man was clearly incensed by that, "Yes. Some free state Bern is, though you take pride in that."

Kayleth shrugged, "The Inner Duchies hold on to many traditions of the past, among them slavery. It's your fault you were enslaved by such weak people."

It amused him how the slaves seethed in indignation. Given the chance, they would make excellent soldiers.

"Ah. This is Prince Zephiel of Bern, by the way, first of his name. He is leading a revolution against the King who has turned a blind eye to the problem of slavery in the Inner Duchies."

"We just fought our way to freedom! We'll serve no one!" a woman, curiously wearing Sacaen garbs, shouted. The sentiment was echoed by the rest of the slaves.

"Fine. Follow my orders and serve in this army and you will have a chance at real vengeance against your former masters. Would that be more palatable?"

"What if we just want to go home?!" Some other gladiator asked.

"Can't risk a band of gladiators waltzing through the countryside. Might get ideas about sacking villages to supply themselves, you see. In case you don't have the brains to understand, these are your choices: join the army and take vengeance or die. It's pretty clear which option you should take."

"I'll take it. So will any gladiator I can convince," Blaine said.

"Good," Kayleth grinned. "Tell them I offer humiliation and pain to the slavers on a scale far greater than that they suffered. Convince them, and I'll give you a front row seat to the execution of a King."

* * *

"Fire! Fire to the west!"

"Murdock, Urumi, take my Legion and evacuate that side. Animals except chicken first, veterans and Knights next, silver or specialist weapons third, and conscripts last. Go!" Kayleth said.

"What about my winnings?!" Murdock pointed at the cards on the table.

"That's not your primary concern right now! Go!" Kayleth kicked him in the rear.

"Should I go, too?" Alice asked.

Kayleth rolled his eyes. "No, I want you on the eastern side of the camp, with me. Fire doesn't look big enough to cause too much damage anyways. Thank God that happened. I find it very hard to do my best when you're in the game, too."

"I'm sorry I'm not a gambler," Alice sniffed.

"Cards aren't gambling. The results don't rely on chance. Free for all is easy. Trying to get your little sister to win is difficult."

Alice raised an eyebrow, "In fact, you seem to have failed in that regard most spectacularly."

"I can't believe I let Murdock, that peasant of all people, get the biggest pot," Kayleth mumbled to himself.

"At least we beat everyone else," Alice consoled her brother. She knew the outcome of that game didn't sit well with Kayleth, who had an obsession with winning that simply could not be cured, even when playing with friends and family. She knew for a fact that he even cheated at rock paper scissors with his daughters. He tried to help her win only because it would be unseemly for his sister to lose to others.

"Tsk. Someone beat us, though. That doesn't count as victory. The first and second places have a large gap between them. Second to win only means first to lose. Senel, Lord Alan, Sir Cuam, Lorene, with me. You had best follow, too, Countess Yolande, Lord Narshen. Bring your guards."

Kayleth took consolation in the fact that he had, at least, fleeced the other players for all they were worth. One would think counting cards and bluffing would be part of every Elibean's basic education, but apparently that was not so. This Narshen, in particular, was an excellent mark. He had deluded himself into thinking this was some part of a courting ritual with Alice, and Kayleth used his distraction to make certain his family was donating a sizeable portion of its herds of goat to the cause of keeping a revolutionary army fed.

Even an idiot like he would know better than to not repay his debt to a Hamorian. During the Bernese Civil War some seven centuries ago, the Etrurian King defaulted on his debts, knowing that Hamor was busy fighting the Inner Duchies practically by itself.

Immediately after the Civil War had concluded, seven Hamorian Legions arrived by sea on the western coast of Etruria. They made straight for the capital, took Aquleia by surprise, and kidnapped, pillaged, and raped for a week before heading back to Bern. The foolish Etrurian King was tortured for months before the twenty-first Duke decided that he had enough. He was sent back, with the Etrurian captives who opted not to stay in Hamor. His limbs, tongue, and privates remained at Winterfell, carefully cut out by the professional torturer/surgeons of Hamor so that the subject did not die. The King was killed on the road by the Etrurians who were understandably not happy about having been kidnapped.

His son, the next King, made the mistake of declaring war on Hamor. Ten of his Legions were slaughtered on their way through Ilia, whose inhabitants the Duke had bribed to his cause. The mercenary Knights, the Hamorian Black Watch forces numbering some hundred and fifty, and winter made short work of the Etrurian expeditionary forces. The idiot King was replaced soon after by his brother, who had the good sense to pay what his father had owed the Hamorians. He was rewarded with everything the Hamorians had pillaged, costs for damages to the city, costs for rape and other punitive acts of violence, and the various body parts his father had left behind in Bern. Minus transportation costs and the bribe costs, of course.

All that trouble for a missed payment on a set of custom silverware worth no more than 2,000 gold. After that incident, no Hamorian merchant was cheated out of just payment. People tended to remember when Etruria's capital was sacked and thousands killed for the sake of 2,000 gold.

Debt, and repaying it, was a very important concept to Hamorians. Monetary debt was considered the lowest and least important form of debt. Debts of favors and all other sorts were next. Debts of honor were of paramount importance and those had to be repaid, even in death.

Kayleth and his motley entourage arrived at the eastern side of the camp, and entered a tent he had set up there. Lyn reported that the fire was being brought under control and that only thirty six green conscripts had died.

"Did you hear that?" Countess Yolande said, her eyes wide.

"Hear what?" Kayleth said irritably.

"Someone just screamed," Narshen nodded and drew his sword, next to useless though he was with it.

A blonde woman wearing a torn dress entered the room, to the confusion of everyone present. Her eyes locked on Kayleth and Alice for moments. Kayleth tried to remember if he knew her.

"Erm… are you alright, madam?" Alan, closest to the entrance, asked.

"Back!" Kayleth commanded, and it caused the blade the woman drew from her side to miss the young noble's heart and stick instead in his lower abdomen..

"Fool! Do you know what you've just done?!" Cuam shouted and approached her as if to disarm her. He, too, was incapacitated by a swift jab that tore muscles in his right arm followed by a heavy kick to the back of his knees.

"She's a Hamorian courtesan! Kill her! Take her alive if possible!" Kayleth urged the armed members of his party. He could only assume that a small section of the perimeter of the camp was compromised and that the guards who waited outside were slain.

Lorene set about to beseech the elder gods for power when a sword tore through the fabric of the tent behind her to slip through her spine. Kayleth realized then that the attack was well-coordinated enough that more than one assassin had slipped through. The courtesan had already incapacitated Narshen, having disarmed him easily enough without shedding blood.

"Hamorian Black Watch," Kayleth cursed. He had no idea how they had gotten back from their assignments abroad so quickly, for the Black Watch was stationed in foreign lands at all times until the end of their service.

Three more agents entered the tent, and helped the courtesan subdue the rest of the group. Senel was incapacitated by a poison dart from a blowpipe. Yolande was knocked out from behind. Kayleth and Alice were practically unarmed, Alice's weapons being with her mount and Kayleth simply not being armed.

He waited for one of the agents to approach before aiming for his eyes. His jab was countered, but he had expected that. Kayleth caught the agent's leg and broke it at the knee, but the other agents had thrown nets over him. He saw that Alice had already been captured.

"There's no way you'll escape," Kayleth growled. "My father was a fool to order an extraction rather than an assassination."

"Assassination would not end this war bloodlessly. Extraction and subversion might," an agent answered cordially, tossing Kayleth on his shoulder.

"You're a Hamorian. You must see sense. The King is an imbecile and must be replaced!"

"We are of the view that no matter how good the Prince is, it is not worth the lives this war will cost," the courtesan said, and prepared to toss Alice on her shoulder. "Excuse me, my Lady."

"Extraction, maybe, but subversion is impossible. You might as well wish for the sun to rise from the west," Kayleth spat.

The agent whose leg Kayleth had broken answered after a well-placed shot that killed a sentry on the watchtower they were about to bypass. "Still. With you and Lady Alice missing, Hamorians and a significant contingent of the Prince's auxiliaries would abandon him. If you two die, they might take it in their fool heads to avenge you."

"How did you get back from Lycia and Etruria so quickly?!" Kayleth demanded.

"Took some local Pegasus Knights hostage, and rode them for all they were worth," the last of the agents answered. "We're Black Watch, my Lord, and you will one day use us. It would be good not to underestimate our resourcefulness. The fire in the west, for instance."

"… Predicting that I would drag my sister to the safest place from the fire, the opposite side of the camp, while sending soldiers there, too and practically emptying the eastern side… well done, agent."

"We aim to please."

"Your timing was a little off, though."

"What?"

Kayleth knew well enough that he and Alice were prime targets. Unless he was asleep, his protocol was to check in by communication stones with a passcode with Urumi and Murdock every half-hour. It had been more than that since the fire had started and they were separated.

Urumi possessed brains enough to realize the scheme behind the fire when Kayleth failed to check in.

Jaffar landed on the Sniper, slitting his throat. An arrow flew into the head of the agent who was carrying Alice, and Kayleth saw that the source of the arrow was Wil's bow.

Lyn did not waste time killing the swordsman who had killed Lorene. She was furious and did not ask for surrender as she charged at the extraction team for the extraction team who were waiting by the gate. Heath, Matthew, and a few others moved to assist.

"Stop moving! I'll kill him!" the agent holding Kayleth shouted.

"No you won't, and we know you won't. You're Black Watch. You must know it is time to surrender," Murdock said, getting off the back of the Pegasus he'd requisitioned as transport. The Pegasus Knight also moved in to surround the last agent.

"Wyvern General Murdock," the agent bowed. "I'm afraid I have orders to kill him if I can't extract him."

"Again, you're Black Watch. You would've done that already and surrendered immediately afterwards if those were your orders. Let's not insult each other anymore, shall we?"

The agent sighed as he let go of his dagger.

"Seize him. Put him in with the other prisoners," Kayleth said as Murdock freed him from his restraints. "We'll put him in the next castle dungeon we find."

"They killed fifteen sentries, and four guards outside the tent. Lorene is dead," Urumi reported. "The other eight of their force have been slain."

"Out of curiosity, why didn't you kill the others in the tent?" Kayleth asked the prisoner.

"Why would we kill people who aren't a threat? Though we might have been forced to kill that big one if the poison didn't work. Wasn't sure it would. Is he alive?"

"Yes, he is," Urumi answered.

"Will adjust dosage for next time," the agent shrugged.

"I'm sure we'll see each other again, in different circumstances," Kayleth said. "But for now, don't give me cause to kill you."

* * *

"Five Legions are holed up in this castle, the first of Central's reinforcements for Hamor," Kayleth said, tapping castle Lepcis on the map with his stick. Central was a common nickname for the capital and its immediate surroundings controlled by the King.

"We need to bypass it, my Lord, if we want to keep to your schedule," Brenya shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"The schedule is all-important. We will bypass it."

"Care to tell us why it's so important?" Vaida snapped.

"Top secret. Only the Prince and I can know."

"It's a good reason, general," Zephiel promised, though he had no idea what the tactician was talking about.

"A fortress circumvented ceases to be an obstacle. A fortress destroyed ceases to be a threat. Don't forget the difference," Vaida growled, clearly uncomfortable with leaving five enemy Legions behind her.

"We will neutralize the threat eventually. Unless the enemy commander is an inbred and retarded child, he will move in to cut off our supply lines. We ambush them when they attack. We don't have the troops, time, or information necessary for a siege. All we know is that they are the first of reinforcements from Central, which means that they are bound to be mostly Knights."

"Soft soldiers who forgot what war is, putting down minor peasant revolts," Brenya snorted. "No match for our Legions."

"Still, given a good defensive position they should be able to hold off greater numbers and cost us losses we cannot afford. I have an excellent plan for the battle after this one, and it won't be applicable if we do not keep to the time table."

"With many Hamorians joining us or staying neutral, they can no longer trust my brother to hold us at Winterfell. It's the only reason they'd let Central forces in Hamor," Countess Teletha reasoned, moving some pieces on the map. "Our five best Legions still owe him fealty, though. He'll send troops to delay our forces until those Legions get there. I have yet to receive word from Hamorians on the other side of Winterfell, which might send him three more Legions."

"We have the numbers to take eight Legions," the Prince said.

Murdock began to answer, "If they were ordinary Legions, it might be possible, Your Highness. Those the Duke is gathering are not. They will consist of the remnants of the Black Watch, five of whom almost abducted Kayleth and the Duchess. There's a Legion of those monsters. They will have the First Legion, two hundred and eighty something Senators; people who survived until sixty five and are considered worthy. The Duke's Coldstream Guards will be there… they're always at Winterfell. There will be the Legion of the Valiant-"

"Legion of the Valiant?"

"Consisting of all who have been awarded membership in the House of the Valiant, about two hundred of them. Then, there are the Rangers, basically a Legion of the best light infantry Hamor can field. Our scouts are the best soldiers our Legions field and the Rangers draw from the best of the scouts. We won't start on the walls at Winterfell today, but it was built by dragons."

"On the battlefield, we have a fair chance, outnumbering them six to one as we are right now. A conventional siege will be impossible. I have a plan for that, too. My endgame is perfect. This upcoming battle is really the only obstacle I consider to be an unknown variable," Kayleth said, knocking the piece representing Winterfell off the map.

* * *

Alice was not comfortable, and this was as close to a comfortable place a hiding spot could get.

Kayleth, Legio XVI, and some other elite troops were holed up in the town. The town had been evacuated earlier, of course, and reliable soldiers took the place of regular villagers. Some children were kept in the town in return for some IOUs for the pretense of normalcy.

As predicted, the commander of the enemy army set up shop in the town. Hamorians all having some sort of a specialization, they found the town in perfect order. In other Duchies, one would have suspected treachery. In Hamor, one really couldn't tell.

Alice was stuffed in a cellar with scores of soldiers. Though they tried to afford the Duchess as much space as possible, there really wasn't space or privacy enough to pee.

When she told Kayleth about this problem through a communications stone, he said it was fine during emergencies such as this to forego a little privacy. She could tell he clearly did not give a damn. He spoke in that tone he used when he had more important things to consider.

Alice would just have to make sure the battle was over quickly enough.

"All forces, commence operation," Kayleth's voice rang out through the stones.

Tear opened the trapdoor to the cellar Alice was hiding in. Soldiers fanned out, hugging the walls and keeping themselves concealed to the enemies who were having dinner in the main avenue of the town.

"Aren't you coming, my Lady?" Tear asked.

"I have to pee."

"I'll keep watch," Tear said, by which she meant that she'd watch.

"Not now. Later," Ashe said, dragging her to her assigned post.

"I guess I'll have to keep watch," Cuam sighed, before he too was dragged off by one of Alice's faithful guardians.

"Call if you need help," Nino smiled as she waved at Alice.

"For God's sake I'm not a child!"

* * *

Kayleth and Murdock were leading the troops hidden in the town hall. Their mission was to seize the enemy commander. The rest had been assigned to keeping the other enemy Legions out of the town. The rest of the Prince's Legions were ready to engage as soon as the signal was given.

The signal, three balls of magical fire towards the east, was set off as soon as Kayleth thought one of the enemies had seen them.

The Central forces, numbering no more than a hundred and not having the good practice of keeping a weapon within reach at all times, were slaughtered in droves next to their unfinished dinner.

"Kill the runners," Kayleth pointed, Wil and Rebecca duly putting arrows in their backs. "Find the enemy general. Capture him or her if possible."

Some soldiers had managed to arm themselves, and were trying to organize a counterattack. They should have run. Lyn did not have to draw her sword, relying instead on her bow. Murdock had yet to kill anyone with his axe. Alice was visibly frustrated by the lack of capable enemies.

It seemed that Brenya was right. Central forces had gotten soft without significant enemies. They had thus far failed to kill one of Kayleth's soldiers.

"They realized what we're up to!" someone screamed through the stones. It was irrelevant. The walls of the town wouldn't be breached any time soon and it would be long past the enemy's leadership being dead. The rest of the Prince's Legions were engaging the Central forces outside the walls, and they had caught them at dinner, too.

The guards at the commander's tent were marginally better than the rabble the Central forces called Knights, but still no match for Jaffar.

Wallace tore open the flaps of the tent with his hands, revealing six scared nobles, a tactician, and yet another surprise to Kayleth in the campaign.

"Greetings," Kayleth started, pointedly ignoring the surprise lest Lyn or Alice notice. "Your Legions outside the town are dying or running or surrendering. Your troops inside the town are dead or dying. Will you surrender?"

"We won't surrender to you, traitor!" one of the nobles shouted, only to have his head lopped off by Cale, who was Kayleth's bodyguard for this mission. The rest of the enemy leadership, except the surprise, squealed in terror and tossed their weapons on the ground.

The surprise was getting over the surprise at seeing him. Hair as white as snow parted to reveal the grey eyes that stared at his face; they were the same grey of Kayleth's eyes. Kayleth observed that she looked remarkably like Pearl.

Sofiya, his eldest sibling, was supposed to have been assassinated by Tetrark some fifteen years ago. Murdock was having difficulty concealing his shock, even though he was helmeted.

"Throw them in the dungeons. Summon our best torturers. I'm overseeing the battle outside. Murdock, you have the town. Have Nino use a sleep staff on Alice and send her to the dungeon, too."

* * *

The screams of the captured enemy leaders echoed throughout the halls.

Information derived from torture was tricky business. On the one hand, they could feed you anything as long as the torture stopped. On the other, they could be a gold mine of knowledge. The trick was to make the victims believe they would be rewarded with something more substantial than a brief break for accurate information.

"So... are you going to do anything with that?" Sofiya asked, pointing at the pincer in Kayleth's hand.

"Why? Do you have a rotten tooth?" Kayleth snorted, passing it on to the guard behind him. "Have Karkarov pull the tactician's teeth out. His voice is starting to grate on me."

The guard understood, and left Sofiya, Kayleth, and Alice to themselves. Alice was sound asleep, having been put to sleep by a dedicated staff usually used in battles.

"Thirsty?"

"Very." Kayleth nodded and held a cup of wine to Sofiya's mouth. She acquiesced to being fed.

"Funny. I seem to remember helping you with table manners."

"Har har," Kayleth rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to let me live?"

"That depends on the conclusions I draw from the conversation we're about to have right now," Kayleth answered, stepping outside the cell for a moment to bring an axe and a chopping block. "I saw Tetrark last week. I killed him."

Sofiya hung her head, unable to look Kayleth in the face. "He did not deserve that."

"He had gone quite mad. The creature occupying that shell deserved that."

"You must know by now he is not guilty of fratricide."

"Not for the lack of trying, I could tell."

"On the other hand, I succeeded."

Kayleth's mind mocked him for having stubbornly believed otherwise. He still did not think it possible. Out of the four siblings, including Kayleth and excluding Alice, Sofiya had been the moral compass of the group. That was why she never would have become heir to the Duchy. Personal morality always came at a cost to societal good.

"So you're telling me that I committed fratricide. Tetrark was not insane, and I killed my only brother." Sofiya groaned at Kayleth's distress. Her brother had always despised weakness and failure. "When I came back after that fiasco, there was no evidence left for me to investigate. Why did our parents hide your survival from me, and Tetrark? Why did you kill Stella?"

"I killed Stella because she was plotting to kill you," Sofiya shuddered, and Kayleth could discern the genuine revulsion she felt about that plot. Over the decades he had many occasions to practice reading human body language, and he knew a lot about the current specimen.

That Stella was plotting to kill him was mildly surprising, but not unbelievable, Kayleth thought.

"She was always the most fragile among us... the most susceptible to our father's game. She wanted to become Duchess, had that compulsive need to just as you have that compulsive need to win."

"As elder siblings go, we did fail her. Failed to protect her when she needed protection. I was too immature. What excuse do you have?" Kayleth snarled as painful memories resurfaced.

"None. Our parents did not believe me. I had to act before you returned from your campaign. I bribed a stable boy to release a serpent when she was hunting."

"Ah... I thought something was wrong when no one could track down the stable boy. I'd assumed he ran to escape punishment. You killed him too, didn't you?"

"Our parents did, actually. Wouldn't do to have word get out that their golden girl committed fratricide."

"Why not inform Tetrark of all this? Why hide it from me?"

Sofiya raised an eyebrow. "Because we all knew how well you take failure, and you were to be Duke."

"I would have killed myself, probably. Nearly did, in fact, and for lesser failures at that," Kayleth admitted.

"Over your being manipulated into slaughtering hundreds of civilians?"

"So you do know about that, and how I left afterwards."

"I'm a well-trained bureaucrat. Got to have some uses," Sofiya half-smiled. "Though, for obvious reasons, I couldn't be seen in public."

"But no, not over that. I knew I might be forced some day to do something like that for the greater good. It was somewhat humiliating, but I got over it."

"Oh? What else could drive my baby brother to suicide, then?"

"You might have noticed a Sacaen with me."

"Your wife," Kayleth nodded. Sofiya had always been the most perceptive among his siblings.

"Almost had her killed, when I owed her a debt of honor, and over not being able to predict the movements of a megalomaniac, too," Kayleth chuckled. "Ah, and not having Alice did not help, either, knowing she'd be the heir apparent unless I returned."

"You did take failure too seriously."

"I've made my peace with that. I saved Elibe from a second Scouring. A mad mage dabbling in elder magic for centuries broke the seal on the Gate at Dread Isle. Had to shut it down and kill three dragons. Even met Archsage Athos and Brammimond."

"... You're serious. We knew of your involvement with the heiress of Caelin and the Black Fang, but the trail went cold then."

"Am I ever not on serious matters? In any case, I did enough for my people. Alice will rule Hamor when I win."

"She's made the decision to be Duchess," Sofiya paled as she looked at her sleeping form. "Does she know about the ring?"

"Of course. She has still chosen to be Duchess," Kayleth frowned, imagining her fate if the ring found her unworthy.

"You cannot allow her. It's not safe."

"It is not our choice," Kayleth groaned. "I've taken all the precautions against her being found unworthy. I"m reasonably certain she'll live."

"If she does not, that's three of your siblings' blood on your hands."

"And you're certain I'll survive the test?"

"Yes. Especially at the cusp of change we are at. Especially in our need for an iconoclast. Especially in our need for a builder of systems."

"Alice will survive. I have not committed the crime of raising weak children," Kayleth spat, his views on the topic made quite clear by his tone. Sofiya would never convince him to turn against Alice's independence.

An uncomfortable silence reigned in the cell, punctuated occasionally by the screams of the prisoners being tortured.

Murdock entered the cell.

"It's five in the morning. We're to head out at first light," Murdock reminded Kayleth, not acknowledging Sofiya's presence.

"We're heading out when I say we're heading out," Kayleth barked, lashing out at his most convenient target. "Undo her bindings, since you're here anyways."

"... So it really is Lady Sofiya?"

"To be kept a secret for all eternity from all."

"I'm afraid you have the better of me, Sir...?" Sofiya asked as Murdock unbound her.

"Just an errant and uppity lumberjack. Hamorian, and my age. One of my earliest clients become Wyvern General."

"Ah, Wyvern General Murdock. I have heard many things about you."

"Disregard the peasant. He's present for an entirely different reason," Kayleth said, handing Murdock a few tools.

"And what might I have done to warrant torture?"

"Oh? Let's see, fratricide, and scheming that's going to lead to yet more parricide? You know me, Sofiya. I despise being manipulated. Someone telling me to do something makes me want to do the opposite. Do you seriously think you'll survive the next hour? I'm having trouble restraining myself from telling Murdock to rape and torture you, and it's only for Alice's sake I have not ordered that, yet."

"I see. I assume you want some things?"

"Troop positions, strategies, commanders. Anything that might convince me to spare your life."

"Our mother is coming... with seven Legions at her back and the castle Aphrodisias as her headquarters. You can't make it through without casualties. You'll never take Winterfell."

"So our parents did send you to be captured... to convince me to surrender."

"Anyone who comes with you will be granted amnesty as well," Sofiya said, looking pointedly at Murdock.

"I have a plan to crush our dear mother. Rejected. Anything else?"

"The wine... you poisoned me, didn't you?"

"Yes. You're an unknown variable. I cannot allow you to distract me when victory is so close. I cannot risk you harming Alice, either. I have no sister but Alice." Kayleth got up, and walked over to the barrel that had been sitting in the cell. He opened it to show Sofiya the face of the brother she had condemned, Tetrark, salted and preserved as one would pickles.

"A mistake, I know," Sofiya groaned at the sight.

Kayleth almost choked at the necessity, but necessity it was. His uncle Pascal had been mad. His brother he had thought mad and guilty of fratricide. This would be the first sane sibling he would kill. "I am Kayleth, a peer of the realm, and I sentence you, Lady Sofiya, to death. The charges are fratricide, high treason, conspiracy, and incompetence. Out of the love I once bore you, I will allow you to name a reasonable last wish. Out of that same love, I will also bar the use of torture. What say you?"

"Don't do this. We can return to Winterfell. Join-"

"I forgive all of you for your wrongs against me. I will never forgive you and my parents for your wrongs against my siblings. Make your peace with whatever gods you've taken to."

Sofiya was a skilled and well-trained negotiator, very observant of humanity in general. She knew her brother was a lost cause. He usually saw reason, but should one or two personal factors tick in, he lost any sense of reason.

Kayleth would kill her for killing Stella, condemning Tetrark, and betraying him. She could offer him a thousand Legions and he would still kill her.

"Let me embrace you, and Alice, before I die."

Kayleth snorted. Any further emotional attachment would make it more difficult to recover from killing her. "You are no sister of mine. I reject you. I repudiate your existence. You are free to do so to Alice, if you wish."

Murdock had to assist her in rising, and lifted Alice to put her on Sofiya's lap.

Kayleth loved his second daughter, Pearl, above his first. It was a given since he liked her better than he liked anybody else in the world. He had sometimes wondered why, and thought that it was how different she was from him, and how interesting that made watching her.

Now he thought it might be how similar she was to Sofiya. The same hair and the same eyes. Sofiya might mistake the magical impression of Pearl in his pendant to be herself.

"I'm ready," Sofiya said, kissing Alice's forehead for the last time.

Kayleth moved forwards so that he might put his hands around her jaw and neck.

Murdock was considerably faster, taking out the silver pin that kept Alice's hair bound and ramming it through Sofiya's forehead with enough force to penetrate the skull.

"I'm not so weak that I can't do that myself," Kayleth said.

"It's still unnecessary. It was better that I do it."

"Have the pin replaced. Salt and preserve the body. We leave at dawn."

* * *

Omake

Kayleth had always been a hair's breadth from madness.

That madness usually gave him succor, gave him the edge he needed to do the unexpected, to think that which no sane man could think, but right now it was killing him.

The grail's offers were so very tempting.

It offered to fix any number of his mistakes in his long career in defending humanity from its worst enemies (i.e. themselves, most of the time). It offered to bring back to life any number of the people he even marginally cared about (i.e. everyone he had sacrificed for victory). It offered to end his miserable existence on this plane and send him to the final reward for his service, heaven.

All for the small, small price of one pathetic city in this nation that was criminally obsessed with high schools, overpowered student councils, progressively shorter skirts, and teenage wish fulfillment fantasies late into their adult lives. Actually, Kayleth could understand the last part. These nihonjin led droll lives in their corporate structure, the Keiretsu, which stifled most forms of independent thought and killed their employees' creative impulses. The galling thing was that they were considered to be successes. It was small wonder, really, that this nation had so many mangakas. Others who sought to escape the oppression of the Keiretsu were branded failures, exiles, 'otakus', delinquents, and worse.

Kayleth opened his eyes, and realized that he had been dreaming. This was really a miserable nation. Politically and economically oppressed without knowing it, slaving away for so little gain. It was really no wonder that so many sought the comfort of fictional worlds.

He looked over his master, and saw him sound asleep. This Shirou Emiya, or Emiya Shirou as it went in this country, was a more upstanding citizen than most. He couldn't complain about the Grail's choice, though his naivete and ignorance irritated him to no end.

Kayleth took his spirit form, and moved to the other master's room. As he had expected, his daughter was having fun molesting her master subtly so she would not awake but have interesting dreams. She was in her 'middle-aged' form, apparently able to change her appearance at whim. In their universe, she was the first who ascended as a human, beginning the long and dreary war of supplanting the original gods. It was no surprise that she held formidable powers even in this universe.

"Go away, papa," Pearl whispered her warning.

That was all very well and good. He wanted to investigate this Matou family he had heard about yesterday. While he had no magical talents of his own, Kayleth had developed a finely attuned sense for the unnatural in the countless eons he had spent serving the cause of humanity.

If what Pearl had insinuated and what he sensed was to be believed, the Matou had to die, every last one of them, and even that might not be enough to purge the taint. He was not so certain he could overcome their Saber, but he suspected he would have to use his ultimate noble phantasm anyways. Kayleth reasoned that Pearl could take care of the Berserker if he had no prana left.

* * *

Omake (continued from above, same day, Pearl's perspective)

Pearl flicked away the gandr shot that Rin had summoned, and was dealing with the repercussion of having gone too far in her experiments.

"Why did the Grail give me a lesbian for a servant!" Rin shrieked.

"Bisexual, actually, but you can hardly blame me for being bored while you were asleep." That was not actually true. She found this universe's primitive internet to be fascinating, and especially this website called 4chan. Pearl had been trolling for six hours before she got bored. Truth be told, she was struck by the banhammer after posting multiple pictures of child pornography on one of its boards. She hacked the site and erased everything as retaliation. The internet was all the cleaner for it.

Rin continued to wail at her lost chastity, stolen innocence, defiled soul, etc. Pearl transformed herself back to her three year old self, and pouted. Her master, even with knowledge of her servant's devilish intelligence and eons of experience, found it impossible to resist her three year old self.

Pearl thought her master was one of the most interesting tsunderes she had ever met. She weaved a few simple spells to levitate herself, for Rin's arms to move into position as if to hold a baby, and comfortably nestled herself there.

Rin seemed to titter on the edge of outrage over her taking control of her body and fawning over her.

"Kitchen. I smell food," Pearl ordered. She did not need food but this Shirou Emiya, or rather Emiya Shirou, was as good a chef as any of the legions of professional chefs she had hired over the eons. Good eating was scarce at the Throne of Heroes.

"Sometimes, I wonder who the servant is," Rin grumbled.

"You shouldn't be," Pearl smiled an adorable smile for her benefit, deliberately leaving the answer ambiguous.

Rin froze as she came upon Sakura and Shirou in the kitchen. Sakura was technically the heir of the Matou, and yet she did not have command spells on her hand.

More importantly, Sakura seemed dumbfounded at the sight of her holding what was obviously a three year old baby in Emiya's house.

Pearl started waving her right hand in Sakura's direction. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is normal. Remember nothing of this when you leave."

If Rin had not heard her cast the spell, she would never have detected it. Pearl had told her everything about her universe, and she wasn't sure if she was exaggerating. Now she saw that she was not. She cast true magics as though they were hers by divine right.

"Hello Tohsaka sempai," Sakura beamed as though everything was normal. "I see you've brought Pearl today."

"What did you do?!" Rin hissed at Pearl out of the corner of her mouth.

"Hypnotism," Pearl rolled her eyes and sighed. "A spell combining the effects of hypnotism, illusions, and memory manipulation. How low the magi of this universe have fallen not to recognize such a simple one."

"One spell, to do all that?!"

"Pfft. Master, surely you've realized by now that I'm too lazy to cast three spells when one would suffice?"

"Good morning, Tohsaka, Pearl," Shirou said cautiously, having heard Pearl's explanations. He didn't think Pearl would attack him but the servant was too whimsical for him to predict.

"So she can't hear what we're saying?"

"It doesn't matter what we say. She'll hear the most 'normal' conversation. I'm finding your questions and attitude tiresome," Pearl huffed, and got off Rin's arms. Just when Rin began thanking the Root for small mercies, she began molesting Sakura with a grin so wide Rin could've sworn it stretched from ear to ear.

Millenia of Human evolutionary mechanisms warred with indignation as Rin contemplated whether or not to hit her unruly servant.

A massive hammer appeared out of thin air and struck her in the head. Despite the size of the thing, the impact was very weak, no more than a light slap to the back of the head.

"You can't hit a baby!" Pearl said, with the indignation that Rin was supposed to have. She transformed into an older version of herself, well into her sixties with lines and creases. "Itadakimasu!"

Shirou gestured at her to start eating and Rin did so. She was having trouble maintaining her composure ever since Pearl had revealed to her that he had wet dreams about her and that Rin also felt attracted to him. The phrase 'anal and bent over' was used.

"So... did we settle on an alliance or did Mr. Emiya poison the fried tofu?" said Pearl.

Shirou choked while hastily explaining that no such treachery had been committed.

"I'm not sure. I know it's your father, but can he be trusted?" Pearl found Rin's contrariness to be adorable.

"If Mr. Emiya should try to poison the tofu, I can take him and my father any time. I know everything about him."

"I take it he's been to a lot of wars?"

"So your dream cycles have started. Good for you, master," said Pearl.

"... He's insane, isn't he?"

"The insane make the best war leaders. Unpredictable, daring, and obsessed beyond reason. Take his ultimate noble phantasm, for instance. To us, that would be called hell or 'War Eternal'. To him, it is known as reality, thus becoming a reality marble. Then, there is his armory. What kind of a sane person has such attachment to his armory that it becomes a noble phantasm?"

"Why wasn't he summoned as a Berserker, then?"

Pearl tutted as though that were the silliest question. "Because I am his keeper, and only my presence on the same plane of existence can keep him sane. Ask him what he'd choose to burn a universe teeming with trillions of sentient lives and burning me. He'd let the universe burn every single time."

"What are you?" Rin feared the answer. She suspected she knew. There were beings like Zeltrech in the multiverse. They ranged from the vastly intelligent, experienced, and mildly bored like Pearl to all that and utterly insane like this Rider apparently was.

"Believe it or not, one of the champions of Order. You're my master. You should have deduced that much about me by now."


	9. What Price Victory

"Our Wyvern Knight scout groups have reported them last to be seen here," Vaida said, indicating with a stick where Kayleth's mother was on the map.

She was earlier to respond than he had expected. Zephiel's army had been marching without stop for some three days now to make up for the miscalculation. Supplies were abandoned to be recovered later. Soldiers took turns sleeping on wagons and animals. Some of the animals were starting to die of exhaustion.

"We will make it in time," Kayleth estimated, biting his fingers in his stress. As long as the time table was kept, he could win the next battle. If the time table was not kept, the revolutionary forces would not have enough troops to take Winterfell and the war would be over. He would not allow all the troops who had died on his orders to have died for nothing. Expenditure was fine, but waste was a capital offense. "Buy all the animals in the next three villages to recuperate from our losses. Have our Wyvern Knights deposit troops by our eventual battlefield when they go out on scouting runs."

"Are you sure this is wise, my Lord? These are not lowlanders at the Duchess's side. Five of her seven Legions are highlanders. We will not win with a tired army," Brenya said.

That troubled him more than anyone in the world realized. Highlanders were made of sterner stuff than the lowlanders, having to inhabit an agriculturally unproductive land and living in a higher altitude. They were also sent out in mercenary companies to actively look for fights abroad whereas the lowlander Legions rarely ventured out of Hamor. Their reputation for savagery and ruthless efficiency was such that just seeing their banners lowered morale in most troops. Even Kayleth's lowlander Legions would have trouble with them in the best of circumstances.

Which is why Kayleth had less than no intention to give his mother a conventional battle, and thus the need to reach the desired battleground before his mother's troops reached it.

Still, if the highlanders had an inkling of an idea about what he was planning, he was doomed.

Vicary, his old military mentor, had once said of his highlanders that "We do not know what our chances of survival are, so we fight as if they were zero. We do not know what we are facing, so we fight as if it is a daemon from our worst nightmares. Our Legion might lose and our people will forget us, but our enemies will remember. We will hurt them so badly that they will never forget us. That is the summation of our battle doctrine." In short, they were insane in battle. Sanity was a trait of the weak.

The hallucinated image of Pascal appeared to warn him. "Always endeavor to fight your enemy on your own terms. If you outnumber the foe use reserves to break through when the enemy's overstretched lines collapse. If you are outnumbered then concentrate your forces so that the enemy can only fight your best troops. If you are powerful at close quarters then engage in dense terrain where your advantage will prove greatest. If you are superior at long range then attack along an extended front. No one has ever won a battle who failed to take advantage of his enemy's weakness, or take heed of his own."

"Doesn't really apply to this circumstance, but in principle, yes," Kayleth hissed.

"Are you alright?" Sigismund asked as he noticed Kayleth say something.

"Just talking to myself," Kayleth snapped as he pored over the map once more. "Have our engineers diverted to the north tomorrow at noon."

"Eh? What for?" Murdock asked.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our salvation," Kayleth tapped a place on the map with his dagger.

"No. The property damage that would cause-"

"Trivial compared to losing this war," Kayleth growled. "None of the farmers should be in the area, anyways. We can rebuild within five years. Three given modern ways and some foreign investments."

"They won't see it coming. The Duchess isn't a general, she's a politician, one of the primary considerations the Duke had in choosing his mate. Something like this has never been done in our history for centuries," Murdock concurred with Kayleth's assessment.

"General. I expect you to be the voice of reason, not to egg him on," Brenya hissed. "We'll lose some of the best farmland we have for years to come! And the cost!"

"Again, irrelevant. We can relocate the farmers if need be and subsidize the difference. General, I would have to ask you to remember your place. You're a Wyvern General. Sentimentality for your homeland cannot factor in the prosecution of your duties. Do I need to have you locked up until the battle is over?"

The hallucinated image of Pascal intruded on the silence, "In war, best to know what enemies are in your camp before you step out and wonder why you face the enemy alone."

"How are you going to do it? I can't imagine we'd find volunteers for the last act," Vaida pointed out.

"Why do you think I brought pirates inland? As they like to say, sanity is for the weak."

* * *

"Now," Kayleth whispered, and prayed like he never prayed before for himself to be right.

The Legions under the Duchess's command approached with caution. They knew the other Legions sent against Kayleth mostly fell to ambushes and traps.

"Are you sure the damn thing will work?" Murdock hissed.

"Our best physicists and geologists say so," Kayleth nodded, more to convince himself than to convince anyone else.

By the Dam of Darnassus, built some five centuries ago to redirect the river, the engineers and the pirates received the order. The engineers were evacuated immediately. Wyvern Knights stood by to rescue the pirates if possible.

The dam had been weakened by some potshots a few days before. Water was leaking already. The river was a powerful one, one of the two that connected Hamor to the sea.

Thirty catapults of various classes fired. The engineers had taught the pirates that much.

Unfortunately, the rules of line of sight and the relative inaccuracy of modern artillery meant that the catapults were placed right in front of the dam. In other words, ground zero.

Frigid winter water and masonry rushed in a tidal wave promising death to the pirates by the catapults. Though some had been moving even before the stones hit the dam, the power of caged nature was greater than they had been told to expect. Of the crews of the catapults, numbering sixty, only twelve escaped with their Wyvern Knight escorts. The others were abandoned by their would-be rescuers, who thought it more likely that they would die with their passengers on tow.

Still, these pirates were handpicked by Kayleth's liaison to the pirates, Ashe. They were picked for strength and swimming skills. It would be found after the battle that fifteen more survived.

Kayleth received the message that the dam was broken. Now he prayed the physicists and geologists were right.

"They're crossing!" some of the scouts reported. No one but the engineers and the top hierarchy of the revolutionary military knew of the doom that was rushing towards them. The consultant geologists and physicists were locked up for their own good., and their guards had been warned that even hearing their ranting would warrant execution for compromising operational security.

Most of the Hamorian Legions, at least five of seven, were in between the banks of the river that ran through the area before the construction of the dam.

"All scouts, retreat from the river bank, double-time!" Kayleth said sharply. Though they knew they'd be exposed, his five squads or so obeyed without question.

The Duchess's Legions were excited over the belated appearance of his enemies. As one, even without the orders from those in high command, the Legions turned towards the scouts.

The opposite side of the tide of death that was approaching them.

Some of Kayleth's scouts were cut down, but they bought valuable time and by the time the Hamorians noticed the water, it was too late.

"All forces, rise and address!" Kayleth said over all communications channels. Flags were risen to order the charge. Trumpets and warhorns blared.

Most of the Hamorians trapped between the banks of the river showed the initiative that was expected of them, abandoning their weapons and armor rather than trying to make for either side of the water's path. Most Hamorians were trained to be able to swim, and especially the highlanders who often made use of longboats to bypass defenses.

Kayleth's Legions concentrated on the two hundred or so that had climbed over the river banks on their side, the western side. The highlanders were brave but disarrayed and faced with more than ten times their numbers in Legions. Not many survived the first volley of arrows and magical fire.

Meanwhile, Wyvern Knights and Pegasus Knights ferried troops to the other side. The few standing on that side were easily killed.

"All forces, surround them and force their surrender! Start fires so the prisoners don't freeze to death and you can keep a better watch on them. Do not let them approach the fires without surrendering. Shoot the ones that start fires without surrendering." Kayleth ordered his troops further downstream. "Search for the Duchess and lock her and her party in combat upon sight! Five thousand gold to the first man to report to me her accurate location! Ten thousand gold to the man who brings me her head!"

A flurry of reports came through the lines. Kayleth did not particularly care for most of them, and listened in only for clues that might give away the location of the Duchess.

She was always accompanied by apprentices and two squads of Coldstream Guards. While his mother was not Hamorian, and as far as he remembered not a swimmer, he doubted her guards would let her die to something so trivial as water.

"Kayleth, a score of Coldstream Guards fleeing on the eastern bank!" Sigismund picked out from the communications traffic.

"Legio XVI to me. Have the squad pressure them but not engage them. Engagement is suicide without sufficient numbers. Have all high-mobile squads on the eastern bank converge on that location."

* * *

Alice was impressed by the magical power in her mother.

By the time his Legion and reinforcements arrived, two squads of the Prince's scouts had suffered heavy losses. The dead were burnt to crisps, hardly recognizable anymore but for their armor and weapons.

The strength of excellent healthcare, magical power, and the effects of the angelic robe had kept her mother in more or less the same appearance as when she was younger.

Alice wondered if she would recognize her. She wondered if she loved her. Kayleth insisted that they loved duty more than they loved her, but now that she thought about it, how would he know? She did not take their treatment of Kayleth kindly, but whatever training she had when she was little, the memories were lost on her.

She was born the youngest child of a family that had seen such ruthless competition that three of five died of unnatural causes. Alice had to wonder whether she was a mistake, being born some eleven years after Kayleth and no one in between. Kayleth never told her of the specifics, only saying that it was their parents and his fault. Alice knew not to push on touchy subjects. For one who claimed to be one of the most logical in Elibe, Kayleth had strong personal whims which included burying and never speaking of painful memories.

She didn't know if she could bear to face her parents. How Kayleth was so sanguine about it she had no idea. Her mother's death was already decreed.

Whether Alice would survive the ring was another concern entirely. She suddenly felt the icy bite of the wind that heralded General Winter, though she was a highlander and should be immune to it. Kayleth did say she took after their mother more than their father, though she hadn't inherited her magic.

"Your Grace?" Asteion asked. He had recently been promoted as a centurion, and his squad was currently tasked to defend her at all costs. How Kayleth expected a squad of foot monkeys to keep up with her on a wyvern, she had no idea. Presumably it was a way of chaining her to be ground-bound.

Alice lowered her spyglass and tried to not look agitated. "My mother is here."

Now that she looked around her, Alice realized many more troops were assigned as her bodyguards while she was distracted. Almost half a Legion stood right behind her. She had joined the war out of her faith in the Prince but she hadn't considered that she would need to confront her parents. Now that the time was upon her, she started to doubt. Alice knew what her duty was, but she had entertained hope for some sort of reconciliation that didn't involve parricide.

"It'll be alright," Rebecca said, somehow burying the considerably taller girl's head in her breasts and stroking her hair.

"Dear, dear," Nino did the same, and Alice had difficulty breathing. Rebecca had very strong arms fitting for an archer.

"Legio XVI, engage with extreme caution," Kayleth said, pointing at the soldiers surrounding their mother. "All forces in the area, move to engage. Surround and preoccupy. Time is on our side. They'll collapse of the cold unless they make a fire. Cut them off from the woods and encircle them. General Vaida and her first Legion are arriving soon."

Some other ragtag bands of fervent loyalist soldiers started to make their way towards the Duchess. Kayleth's troops kept them occupied, relying on the strength of nature to wear them down. At least the soldiers less inclined to the current King's rule were surrendering in droves, and they formed the vast majority of Hamor's populace.

Hamor was a Duchy that did not tolerate inept rule. Under his father, it was one seething ball of discontent barely held in check by the waning faith the people had in the Duke's judgment concerning the matter. The arrival of Kayleth and Alice changed that. The closer the Prince's armies got to Winterfell, the more Hamorians volunteered to join. The Prince now had nearly twenty Hamorian Legions under his banner.

Lightning struck repeatedly at the vanguard of Kayleth's forces surrounding his mother.

"Maya, go do your job."

The recently joined gladiator nodded. She was a funny creature, more than a little touched in the head. The leader of the gladiator revolt, Blaine, had told him that she learnt how to use magic tomes almost instinctively while illiterate, reminding Kayleth of Nino's spellcasting. For whatever reason, she could only use thunder, and at close range at that. The gladiators called her their Saint of Thunder.

Just the perfect unexpected variable, aside from flooding the Legions with water in the winter, to catch his mother off guard. Perhaps she'd even survive the exchange, though he doubted it. His mother was chosen by his grandfather and approved by the Senate based primarily on bringing powerful magical blood into the bloodline.

Meanwhile, there were twenty headache-inducing Coldstream Guards to take care of. While he outnumbered them twenty to one, these Guards had already killed four squads' worth of soldiers and managed to escape while escorting his mother. Some of the best men in Hamor and bound completely to the Duke by law and regimental traditions. It was a shame that they had to die.

And die they did. The Guards were at a distinct disadvantage in the cold and Kayleth's Legion consisted of only the best, with the obvious exception of Alice and a few nobles' children Kayleth had taken on as favors. Four or five soldiers engaged each of the Guards at once, and Kayleth's mother was locked in combat with the gladiator Sage.

Already one had fallen to Wallace's lance and two to Jaffar's kukri class daggers, assigned for this mission to counter the Guard's heavy armor. One by one, the Guards fell until there were thirteen left.

Kayleth grimaced as Maya fell, burned to a crisp. He had been keeping track of that duel but he had hoped she would buy more time.

"Nino, engage the Duchess," Kayleth ordered, steering her away from healing the wounded. The Guards were Guards for a reason and they were making sure to take out at least two for every one of their losses.

Upon being confronted with Nino, the Duchess hesitated, just as Kayleth had planned.

Oblivious to the truth, Nino put her considerable power into killing the Duchess.

Kayleth turned away. That fight was going to be just as he had anticipated. He needed to pay more attention to the other fights.

A squad of Kayleth's soldiers broke and ran. Kayleth was surprised for a moment before he realized that they were not Hamorians. He sent another squad to reinforce the position.

He watched as a centurion caught up with the fleeing squad and started cutting them down. Perhaps smarter than Kayleth had given them credit for, the squad turned to kill the centurion. It was useless, though, for normal people to resist centurions.

The last one in the squad begged for mercy, offering to throw himself back in the fight.

The centurion answered as he prepared to execute the coward, "I am empowered to deliver justice wherever I see it lacking. I am empowered to punish cowardice. I am granted the gift of total authority to judge, in the name of the Duchy, on the field of battle. You have been found wanting. Pray to your God who has forsaken you."

Kayleth turned his attention back on the Guards and the loyalist stragglers joining them. Not even half a squad remained, and Nino was doing a marvelous job of keeping his mother occupied.

"Kayleth, do you want me to do anything?" Alice asked, exasperated that everyone but she and her ten or so guards had been ordered into battle.

"Yes. Help Nino. Lyn, Senel, with me. Countess Yolande, Lord Alan, Lord Ramirez, with me but behind Lyn and Senel."

As Kayleth had expected, Alice's charge distracted his mother long enough for Nino to finally penetrate the wards. His mother was put on the defensive, and Kayleth made straight for the Duchess.

"Kayleth," his mother gasped upon seeing him.

"Hello, Duchess Viviane," Kayleth dismounted from Elaine and charged.

A fireball was launched at him but it was relatively half-hearted, and Kayleth had been tortured in his youth to increase his magical resistance. It was ironic that his mother had handed him the tools for her own destruction.

Shrugging off the fire, Kayleth's right hand clasped around the Duchess's cheeks. Using his momentum, Kayleth threw her on the ground.

Legault assisted by kicking away the magical tome that tumbled out of her hands. Kayleth stomped on her ribs, breaking three or four of them. Matthew took advantage of the distraction to strip her of her other weapons.

"Lady Jill, please heal Duchess Viviane," Kayleth told the Valkyrie, and watched the healing progress. Reports came in from communication stones that nearly a thousand and two hundred of the enemies had been captured alive, and were herded towards fires so they don't freeze to death. Salvage operations were ongoing for equipment they had abandoned on the field. A few stragglers had escaped and were being pursued, but most of the others were dead or dying.

Kayleth saw his mother breathe easier. "Stop. Everyone aside from Nino, Lyn, and Alice, form a fifty feet perimeter around us. No one gets closer."

His troops moving to obey, Wyvern Knights sent by the Prince circled overhead to defend the soon-to-be Duchess of Hamor and the tactician.

"Your Grace. I present to you Lady Alice, Duchess of Hamor in the very immediate future, Lady Lyndis, Marchioness Caelin, and my vassal, Nino," Kayleth drawled as his mother sat up. "Lyn, please join those at the perimeter. We have a little family matter to discuss."

"I have to leave but Nino can stay?" Lyn asked, obviously incredulous.

Kayleth grinned, "I suppose you can stay for that explanation. It'll get Nino out of the way, too."

"It can't be..." Viviane's eyes widened in genuine shock.

"Yes, Nino looks surprisingly like your late youngest sister, doesn't she?" Kayleth's relationship with his mother was one in which the mother was the dominant force. How the tables turned. How the mighty have fallen.

"Kayleth, what are you talking about?" Nino demanded, just as confused as Lyn was.

"Your mother, Nino, was the youngest daughter of a prominent family of magi," Kayleth began. "A factor that did not go unnoticed by my grandfather, father, and the Hamorian Senate. There was a certain dearth of powerful magi within the last few generations of the Ducal lineage, and my grandfather felt strongly that it was a defect in the bloodline that had to be corrected."

"What my son is trying to say," Viviane interjected, "is that I am your aunt."

"Gods, mother, you're the one who always insisted I finish my sentences," Kayleth snarled in annoyance. "What I'm trying to say is that Alice and I are your cousins by marriage, Nino. My mother is your mother's eldest sister. Nearly seven years' difference in age, I think."

"... How did you know this? How did you find out?" Nino asked, taking it rather calmly, all things considered.

The loss of her twins and five years on the run before coming under his protection forced her to grow up. Kayleth was quite proud of his distant cousin, his most valuable find in terms of raw talent and loyalty since Murdock and Lyn.

"Well, you must remember my training," Kayleth gloated. "I was trained to be the next Duke of Hamor, Nino. That means I was raised to be a predator, the top of the food chain, the king of the jungle. Point is, all good predators know to identify and remember details of the prey's weakness. I hadn't thought about it before, but finding Canas to be your uncle... his wife was, as you know, your mother's second oldest sister. I was curious. Not many families produce magi of such knowledge and strength that Nergal himself chooses to pay them a visit. An extraneous detail to be used at my whim in dealing with you and Canas, but something nagged at me.

"That's when I remembered another likewise extraneous detail. My mother, before she became Duchess, had a portrait done of her family. In it were people who looked very much alike you and Canas's wife. That is when I decided to investigate your family's manor, with Canas, about five years ago now. That is the place where I discovered that coincidence does not exist, only the inevitable does."

"Five years... is that-"

"Yes, Nino. That is when I decided to take you in despite the risks of discovery by my parents, despite how many people wanted your husband dead, and despite how many enemies I was going to make taking in Jaffar." Kayleth grinned, "And as you can see, my investment has paid off. The greatest Sage under my command since the Archsage, and as expected, instrumental to defeating my mother's magic. My greatest vassal other than Murdock. I will make you Baroness after this war, and with your resources, you will find your children. Dismissed. Join the perimeter."

"The Archsage?" Viviane raised an eyebrow.

"Long story short, Black Fang was led by a Druid rivaling the power of the Archsage. He opened the Dragon's Gate. It was closed, with the Archsage's help. I led that army, and prevented a Second Scouring." Kayleth listed off while keeping his eyes on Nino.

Nino looked visibly shaken now. She knew that to leave Kayleth with his mother was to consign her aunt to death.

Fortunately, Kayleth had a history with Nino and Viviane did not. Nino was one of the few who knew what Kayleth's childhood had been like. It might have been instrumental in the victory against Nergal, and Nino supposed she owed the Duchess for that, but it was ultimately Kayleth who had led the army against Nergal, killing the one who murdered her parents. He was the only one who offered viable sanctuary to her and her husband. More importantly, he offered her a future.

She owed him far too much to back out now, and Kayleth knew it. Nino turned her back on Viviane, and went to join Kayleth's guards. Lyn was somewhat more hesitant, eyeing Alice, but she trusted in Kayleth's judgment on these matters enough to back off.

Only Alice, Kayleth, and their mother remained.

It was time for revelations.

"Alice has decided to be Duchess."

Viviane flinched, and Kayleth's attentions fell on the ring on her finger.

"She knows about the ring."

"Are you sure she'll survive?"

"Oh you should know better than to think I'd raise weak children, mother. Alice is ready. Our ancestors will deem her worthy."

On the Duchess's middle finger was the Ring of the White Hawk, carried by the Duchesses of Hamor for a millennium.

If legends were to be believed, it and its twin, the Ring of the Black Hawk, were created as the last favor of Brammimond for the primogenitor of their House.

It carried the memories of all the Dukes and Duchesses who had ruled Hamor, and the spirits infused in the rings only had one purpose. To judge. Those who were found wanting died, killed by the magic within.

Other than the harsh training and natural selection, the rings were the last checks on the competence of Hamorian rulers. Hundreds had perished to the rings, thinking themselves worthy but proved wrong.

In other words, Kayleth had no idea if Alice would survive.

The ring with the pearl was for the Duchess, and Kayleth's hands deftly overcame the paltry resistance his mother offered. He was afraid, but he was reasonably sure he had done all he could to prepare Alice for this moment. The ring would find her worthy, or he was going to burn Elibe to the ground in his vengeance.

"No. You're the one meant for-"

"But I don't want to be Duke. I'd be a terrible Duke. I was meant for war unending. Alice is meant for peace."

Alice walked to her brother's side, her eyes focused on the ring.

"Don't worry. You'll survive," Kayleth said, though the fear within was killing him. To have come this far and to lose the one thing that made him determined to live on would be appalling.

"Of course I will. I am Alice, of the House of Winterfell, and your sister," Alice stretched out her left hand. "But if I don't survive... promise me you won't blame yourself."

Kayleth snorted, "Pointless. You are my sister. Of course you are worthy."

The ring slipped onto the middle finger, and adjusted its shape to clasp firmly around it. Alice fell, and as Kayleth caught her, he could feel her convulsing.

Kayleth and Viviane watched in terror, fearing the worst.

The convulsions subsided, and Kayleth could feel a faint heartbeat. He immediately forced elixir down her throat. Alice sputtered and coughed as the bitter liquid threatened to go down the wrong pipe.

The three stared at each other, rendered numb from the shock of the experience.

"... I take it I'm not surviving the next hour, am I?" Viviane asked Kayleth.

"No. You've done relatively well, all things considered. It's not everyday the ring and the Senate approve of an outsider for a consort." Kayleth answered, checking Alice's vitals. "I thank you for your services. You have a little more before the termination of your contract. Tell Alice about my siblings."

Alice stared at Kayleth, wondering if she had misheard.

Kayleth seemed perfectly serious, and her mother seemed to be unwilling to talk.

"You don't remember?" Viviane murmured, not as a question but as a statement. "It's not surprising... they disappeared from your life when you were so little."

"Kayleth, what is she talking about?" Alice said.

"Alice... my youngest... you had four other siblings, not one."

"That can't be. I'd remember them. Someone would have mentioned them. Kayleth would have told me."

"No. You weren't ready. I was planning to clean up all of this family's mess in the siege of Winterfell," Kayleth answered, choosing his words carefully. He could not have Alice survive the ring only to be traumatized by this. "Especially because the enemy's generals in the last two battles were your eldest brother and eldest sister, and I had to put them down."

Viviane groaned. She had hoped that Tetrark and Sofiya had survived Kayleth's wrath. It was apparent that she and her husband had raised a better Duke than they had expected.

"You said they were nobodies!" Alice snapped.

"You couldn't afford such distractions, not with the ring to judge you," Kayleth shook his head.

"Alice, you have to understand-"

"You..." Alice turned to face her mother.

"You have to understand, you were four years old when this happened," Viviane continued. "It was around that time Kayleth was confirmed as heir apparent. You see, your father had pushed your siblings to degrees no other generation of the Ducal line had been pushed before."

"You tortured Kayleth... does that mean you tortured my other siblings as well?" Alice realized, about to overflow with anger.

"And I regret it, but it was necessary. I did not pass on my magic to any of my children. Without that magical resistance, Kayleth would have died many times on his campaigns."

Kayleth knew Viviane did not have as much conviction in their educational methods as his father did. She was not of the Duchy, and outsiders could never understand the driving obsession about natural selection. His father was the obsessive and idealistic one, believing that the Ducal lineage had to be purged of any weakness, including jealousy so strong as to drive sibling to kill sibling. That was why Tetrark and Sofiya's deaths were kept secret. Stella was killed, as she deserved for plotting to kill him. Without them, Kayleth had no real competitor and could focus on getting shit done.

If his parents hadn't practically consigned the very few people he gave a damn about to death, Kayleth might have agreed with the principles behind their action. However, he was a mastermind, the most critical and spiteful of all psychological archetypes. Being an idealist, his father did not understand that, and his mother was not chosen for her perceptiveness.

"And Kayleth chose to be tortured rather than be weak? He wanted to be Duke the moment he was born? Our Duchy's built on choice, mother. It's time to pay the price, and now for my other siblings as well as Kayleth."

"You don't want to know about your siblings?" Viviane asked, backing away from Alice's sword.

"Not. Now. And certainly not from you. I have one brother. That is all."

"I am sorry I had to keep this a secret, Alice. I couldn't let this get in the way of your judgment," Kayleth was cautious, knowing his sister to be on the verge of blinding rage. She needed to be comforted that night. He'd coach Murdock and Lyn on the right words to say.

"Don't talk to me! We'll have a discussion about treating me like a child later!" Alice snapped as she stormed off.

"... Well, that certainly was childish."

"She's seventeen," Kayleth raised an eyebrow.

"She survived the ring. You've apparently saved Elibe. Well done... my bravest son."

"That'd be Tetrark, actually. I'll take 'most resourceful' over 'bravest' any day. So resourceful that Stella tried to kill me." Kayleth chuckled bitterly.

"You're the one who started a civil war, and a disadvantageous one, over vengeance. We didn't mean for that to happen." Viviane was hurt by the mention of Stella.

"Mother, you still don't understand. This is a realm of judgment. In this Duchy, we place more stock in cost-efficiency and cost-benefit analysis than we do the process. Process is for the weak. I will kill you and father not because the end result was bad. No. I'll kill you for your incompetence," Kayleth spat with such venom as he had not had in nine years. "You've succeeded in raising one child. You've effectively killed or abandoned your four other children. That's an unacceptable margin."

"Please. You'll kill me because the realm cannot have two Duchesses."

"That, too. The only question I was entertaining was how painful and prolonged I ought make your execution. I had to admit you did make me strong. It is only for that I decided on a quick one." Kayleth drew a simple steel sword. "Any last words?"

"Tell Alice-"

"That you love her," Kayleth rolled his eyes. "I was going to do that anyways. Father trained me to be an excellent liar."

"And that I'm so proud of you, my bravest and strongest child."

Kayleth raised the sword and sent it tip-first into his mother's heart. Life dimmed from her eyes in seconds.

His mother, in falling in love with his father, fell in love with his ideals as well. That was her greatest mistake. In an ideal relationship, one made sure that one's mate did not exceed certain boundaries. One provided one's mate with a different perspective, much like Lyn did him.

He wondered if failure ran in her mother's bloodline. Her younger sister, killed in a blizzard and leaving behind an orphan and for what? Saving a village of nobodies? Her youngest sister, killed by Nergal and Sonia even though she had no guarantee that Nino would survive her surrender? Utter foolishness. Kayleth shuddered at the thought of some genetic defect having tainted him. In the future, the ruler's mate would have to be chosen based on how different he or she was in addition to the usual standards. Beauty, intelligence, and magic obviously did not work out for his father's reign.

As expected, the ghosts of his siblings did not show up to forgive him. He had to make do with half the vengeance they deserved. For today, justice had been done.

In a week, they would have the other half of the vengeance, and all the bloodshed would be worth it.

* * *

Omake

This 'Zero' was a very amusing man.

Kayleth was pretty sure he was a man. Very few women had the arrogance necessary to believe one person could take on the whole world and completely change its paradigm.

"Dr. Chawla, don't you think it-"

"Rakshata," the Indian woman tutted. "I'm not so hung up over titles like the Earl of Pudding."

"Would be interesting to see what these Black Knights can do with your children?"

"Black Knights," Pearl giggled. "A group of rebels trying to overthrow Britannia, Black Knights."

The irony was palpable.

"You don't seriously believe there are-"

"How about the one that piloted one of those earlier models at Shinjuku? Whoever that was seemed to be a very capable operator... unless you believe the Guren is no match for the Lancelot?"

* * *

I was gonna publish sooner, but I had essays due Tuesday, Borderlands 2 distracted me a bit, and I read the latest in the Dresden Files series, which was fuckawesome. There's something to be said for the rule of awesome that defeats even the most painful of Stuism. Fist of the North Star and Dragonball being some prominent examples. Sparkly vegetarian emo vampires with psychic powers would be the opposite.

Relation with Nino: thought that might be stretching coincidence a bit but rule of awesome won out in the end. Also, Hamorians have an unhealthy interest in breeding people like livestock, so it's consistent.

The ring part's an obvious homage to the Other Memory, Dune, Frank Herbert, none of which I own.

Considered making Kayleth's mother a little insane, completely unrelatable, ice queen type, but that's too convenient and easy. I despise the convenient, the easy, and the politically correct. Under the circumstances, she did the best she could under the knowledge and goals she was operating with. She had the best of intentions and I'd say the results speak for themselves. 2nd Scouring stopped and the Civil War won. Would I say if an alien race is out there to destroy humanity, like Halo, I'd want people like her to train our soldiers? Yes. I have a healthy interest in survival. In light of the lack of such obvious threats, however, one should wonder whether this speaks to an illness in Hamorian society. Idealism not checked by reality tends to end in such extremes (i.e. Stalinist Russia and Hitler's Germany).

Considered imprisonment for Kayleth's parents, but it'd make the title meaningless. Had to replace the marrying the mother bit with driving a sufficiently phallic instrument through her obviously.

Considered keeping the secret from Alice forever, but that introduces no real crises in Alice's life. It just makes her a freeloader on Kayleth's decisions and protection. It makes her a dependent. People mature through crises, even in five year old children's fairy tales. Or they die. It's called natural selection. Our best leaders are and were ones who matured through crises, and learnt to deal with those crises. The best examples would be Chamberlain and Churchill. The former had it made in the shade drinking lemonade, having a comfy aristocratic life. Churchill fought, fought, and fought some more, first against his speech impediment, then against enemies of Britain, and then against enemies within Britain. Chamberlain is now known as the fu(ktard who let Hitler have his way. Churchill is now known as the one who recognized the bastard for what he is and defeated him.

The real measure of a leader is how he/she handles crises. Kennedy isn't remembered for his fu(k-ups. He's remembered for stopping WWIII because he learnt from the previous crises.

Also wanted as much tension as possible in the next chapter.

* * *

Omake

"Irashai, ojou-sama."

Rin entered the kitchen, preparing a gandr shot, but found it was just Pearl.

"You know how to cook?"

"I've been alive for more years than I can count, master."

"Your father can't."

"Special circumstances. Doesn't fit with his constitution. Drink?"

Rin had just found out, about three hours ago, that Sakura was master of Archer.

"You're a bartender now, too?"

"I told you, Rin, I've done just about any job you can think of, and more that you can't," Pearl's eyes glinted in amusement and her hands started shaking. "One Cinderella, coming right up."

"This doesn't have a date rape drug in it, does it?" Rin's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Silly, silly master. Alcohol is enough of a date rape drug that it doesn't matter," Pearl poured the liquid in a glass.

"What's the alcohol content in this?" Rin sipped cautiously, then drank it all, smacking her lips. "Delicious!"

"Zero."

"Don't joke."

"One third orange juice, one third lemon juice, and one third pineapple juice. A bartender must be able to mix drinks for people who don't drink alcohol."

"Will the next one be non-alcoholic?"

"No. That's boring. Consider me your psychiatrist tonight. I'll be prescribing medicines."

"No thanks," Rin turned to walk away from the kitchen.

"Master, do you not wish to win this war?"

"Of course I want to win!" Rin snapped. "What does that have to do with this?"

"As I've told you, ojou-sama, I've lived for more years than I can count. I've lived most of those years in war. Soldiers, even ones as stoic as yourself, need to be healed in mind and soul as well as body after battles. Therefore, I order you to sit, eat, drink, and talk."

Rin looked at Pearl's face, but gone was the playful smile, the content grin, or the amusement that were the default expressions on her face. In their place was a small and reassuring smile.

"There are two professions in the world in which one is never allowed to betray the customer. One is a medical profession. The other is the bartender. Both deal with things that can be poisonous or medicinal. I am a professional in both fields," Pearl paused. "I would never, for instance, ever tell Emiya-san that you're attracted to him, no matter how obvious the signs and how clueless he is."

"B-baka! There's no way I'm a-attracted to-"

"Start with the salad," Pearl used magic to make Rin sit. The forks and knives lifted themselves into her hands.

"... Alright, but only because I'm hungry. This is not because the food smells good. I'm n-not that weak!"

"You could do with some energy. Have a drink." A glass hurtled towards Rin's mouth and stopped at the last moment.

"What's this?"

Pearl rolled her eyes. "Alcohol content, less than 2%. Eye Opener. This one uses Stella Artois. The rest is tomato juice."

This time, Rin didn't hesitate as much in gulping the drink down. "Refreshing! This really has alcohol?"

"Say ahh~" Pearl dumped some salad in her mouth.

Rin was surprised by the quality of the salad. She knew she wasn't the best cook in the city, but she'd been abroad, where there many excellent restaurants, on numerous occasions. She thought Pearl's cooking must be what the gods ate in the bygone ages of magic and legends.

"Just because I'm too lazy to cook, it doesn't mean I cannot," Pearl grinned. "Today's themes are Mediterranean and alcoholism. I've put drugs into the last drink to let you handle more drinks and food than would usually be the case."

"... You had drugs that could prevent me from getting drunk or fat, and you just told me this now?"

"Ah, but they're not free. You have to tell me everything that's troubling your mind," Pearl continued mixing a drink. "What's troubling my mind right now is the unevenness of this particular ice cube. Chipped ice cubes are no good in cocktails." Pearl briefly let the mixing rod go and swept her hand over the ice, smoothing the shape."

"Don't use prana so flippantly," Rin sighed.

"Sorry. I forget I'm not using my own prana," Pearl said in the tone that indicated she couldn't care less as long as the ice was smooth. "Any drink you particularly want? Try to avoid drinks with fruit. It's the second most inconvenient thing for bartenders to deal with."

"Are you implying I'm the type to frequent bars?"

"Yes, you look like that kind of a woman," Pearl grinned. "If you were back in one of the realities I've conquered, you'd be a hostess at a classy bar. Your wages, including tip, would likely fund a century of your jewel-magic research."

"I'd never sleep with drunk losers," Rin hissed.

"Ah, but that's the most important part. The hostess must always seem available, but unavailable for that final act. Think the opposite of a bartender."

"So bartenders have to sleep with customers?" Rin snorted.

"No. A bartender is available. He or she is the last one a person would see, before a priest maybe, before committing suicide. You know I am good at talking. You should know I'm just as good at listening. So talk," Pearl gave her another drink.

Rin sputtered after she downed the drink in one long gulp. "That had a lot of alcohol, didn't it."

"I knew your guard would be down," grinned Pearl. "But don't avoid the conversation. Sakura. What will you do about her?"

"... She's no longer my sister."

"Ooh... so cold," Pearl mock-shivered. "But you can tell me the truth, master."

"I will win this war," Rin declared. "But you and I will do everything in our powers to save Sakura. This is an order."

"I could interpret that as an order to kill her if it turns out that we can't save her."

"You have untold millennia of experience in magic! You must know how to cure her!"

"First time I came across such... creative use of worms," Pearl shrugged, forcing a mouthful of miso in her master. "And believe me, I've seen much worse."

"... This tastes just like Emiya's.

"Of course it does. I stole it from his house," there was not a trace of repentance in Pearl's voice. "Now to the real question. Let's say Emiya prefers Sakura. Are you still willing to save her?"


	10. Oedipus Rex

Winterfell, capital city of Hamor, was the main gateway between Bern and the rest of Elibe.

It's inhumanly fat walls were nestled on the mountain range that separated inner Bern from the rest of Elibe. A tunnel between the western and the eastern gate connected the two.

It was a siege master's nightmare. To say nothing of the contents of the city's defenders, it was still a nightmare. The dragons built the place in their waning days of the Scouring, and they had done so with no intention of letting anyone through to inner Bern. Only dragons could have the strength to manipulate stones of such size and the intelligence to engineer artifice on such scale that resulted in the city's walls. Seven layers of them stood between the invader and the citadel. That was hardly the end of the story. The surface city was carved into the mountains, but the city was actually two in one. The dragons loved the underground, overgrown lizards that they were, and they decided to create the main city within the mountains that their city was carved into. There were seven layers of walls there, too.

Dragons had a strange fetish with seven, almost as bad as humanity's tiresome fetish with three. Crates of beer bottles contained multiples of three. Their main religion had three. Crop rotation was done in three parts.

In the end, the might of the fortress with its overlapping fields of fire and many layers of walls availed them nothing to treachery. A few dragons married to humans managed to open the gates from the inside, and through mounds of human corpses, humanity emerged victorious.

That was not a story known to the general public, of course. Credits had to go to the Eight, three of whom weren't even there according to Hartmut's journals. The dragons who had opened the gates were killed shortly after the conclusion of the Scouring, their crimes being their existence and their lack of plausible deniability.

Aqueducts, plumbing, irrigation, and other marvels of dragon engineering went unused for a century due to the Church's decree. Anything made by dragons was considered inherently tainted, flawed. That changed when the Dukes of Hamor had enough power to tell the Holy See at Aquleia to lay off and do what the Church's agents did best: blessing the rear of small children. Elimine's damned edict had delayed the studies of the dragons' knowledge for five centuries, in which many of their books had been lost.

Religion was very useful during the Scouring. Not so much afterwards. Still, it made a decent crutch for enough people that the secular rulers of the world suffered its continued existence.

"Plans?" Zephiel asked.

"Distract, infiltrate, and execute. I have some people inside loyal to me," Kayleth answered, not taking his eyes off the spyglass. He could see banners of eight Hamorian Legions, and five of them the Legions he feared most. His father had done exactly what he would have done had the situation been reversed. He sent out distractions until he gathered his main forces that would make an assault too cost-prohibitive.

The day would once more have to be carried by the unexpected.

"Send elements of Legions five to seven to the 'secret passages' I mentioned. Make the appearance of building siege equipment," Kayleth instructed, and looked at Sigismund's confused face. "Yes, I'm sending them to die."

"Good. Clarification on 'appearance' of-"

"Yes, actually build siege equipment. Not too good to be time-consuming, and not too bad to be worthless. In short, do a half-assed job."

"What about the secret passageways you mentioned?" Vaida asked, impatient to get at the enemy.

"My father isn't an idiot. He knows I know them. His best troops will be tied down there while our main force stays at the wall. His other troops will stay at the wall. We will strike elsewhere. We have one advantage my father isn't used to, and hasn't considered according to my agents. He thinks he's hunted down all my agents but those were the ones I gave him as freebies," Kayleth smirked at the ingenuity of his ideas. "He'll never see this particular betrayal coming."

"A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. The traitor is the plague," Sigismund said, quoting a famed pre-Scouring statesman.

A guard came through the flap of the tent, and for a second Kayleth feared him to be a traitor.

"Sirs, Your Highness, there are two people who wish to see the tactician. They've been cuffed and-"

"In that case, send them in. Murdock, prepare to kill them."

Murdock was one of the few people allowed to draw a weapon in the presence of the Prince, if only for the fact that he had plenty of opportunities to kill him anyways.

Kayleth tilted his head, regarding the curiosities that were sent into the tent. He might have been mildly uncomfortable with their bulk if it hadn't been for the three Wyvern Generals and the Prince in the tent, who could defend him should they decide to go crazy.

The woman looked batshit crazy. If not, retarded and childish.

The childish demeanor changed into merely crazy and rabid when her eyes fell on him.

"So... I'd guess that you two know me?" Kayleth said.

"That, we do, Baron," the man answered. Kayleth realized now that they were twins. "We were of the Black Fang."

"Were because you left or were because it exists no more?" Kayleth moved to put Vaida between him and the assassins.

"Both, I guess. Oh, don't mind her. Ysa, my sister, won't do anything I don't tell her to do. I'm Glaive, by the way." Kayleth could see a kindred soul in Glaive. He was dangerous.

"So, what have you come to me for? Extermination?" Kayleth gave a pointed look at Murdock's axe.

"No. We came to join you."

"Ha! And why would I believe someone whose family I had slaughtered?" Kayleth laughed.

"You shouldn't. No matter what they'd become, they used to be family, and you killed them all," Glaive snarled at him before taking a moment to calm down. "But your cause, killing the King, is something our leader cherished."

"Brendan Reed, an unlearned peasant pretending at prophet of a new religion, so arrogant to have taken up a last name. Got seduced by a demihuman and turned his cult into one that served a dark mage. That leader?" Kayleth mocked, his words dripping with contempt and sarcasm.

"Yes, that leader. We left him a little after he met that megalomaniac bitch."

"Oh? I suppose it says something if you were able to survive the Fang's cleaners for so long."

"We were very good at our jobs."

"Very well. I will allow you to join our forces."

"Where will we be housed?"

"Housed? You mean jailed, to be unleashed at my pleasure."

* * *

It was two in the morning, and there was a time-honored tradition in backstabbing to backstab around that time in order to make it worth more.

It was three days into the siege, and once again Kayleth's expendable troops threw themselves at the walls and the secret passages. Nearly four Legions had been lost in the past three days. Probably two more would die this day, but this time with a significant amount of the defenders' blood.

The already few sentries at the eastern walls were diverted to the western walls.

In almost all wars, Bern had aerial superiority. That was true against all nations unless they hired significant numbers of mind-numbingly expensive and not particularly cost-effective Pegasus Knights, who were best employed against large contingents of magi, meaning the Mage Corps of Etruria.

With all the hostile Wyvern Knights flying overhead, Duke Calgar had noticed that he did not have aerial superiority. Concentrating on whether or not they got into the range of the ballistae, which they sometimes did at Kayleth's orders, he missed the few Pegasii and Wyverns who traveled far enough south out of vision, east, and then north again.

Smack on the other side of the mountains and the concentration of defenders.

The few guards who had not been diverted to the western walls tumbled to their deaths. One made for the drums to raise the alarm, but found Legault's daggers in his back before he reached it.

The eastern gate opened, and one man stepped out of it.

Kayleth stepped out of the cover of the forest, and waved at him. The man sprinted to his location.

"My Lord," Kayleth's butler bowed.

"Sebastian, you're late."

"Ah, some of our agents have been caught. I assume it was milord's doing?"

"Yes. Did you have enough left to carry out my plans?"

"It would be troublesome if a servant of the House of Winterfell couldn't perform such simple tasks, wouldn't it?"

"Good. How is our path?"

"Clear. All the sentry towers and warning towers are down. The Thieves' Guild was most eager to lend its assistance."

In the Duchy, only those bearing the emblem of the Thieves' Guild were allowed to steal from Hamorians, provided that they give back what they stole within the day. It was practice. Their real jobs were to go steal things, plant false evidence, etc in foreign lands. They were spies, assassins, kidnappers, interrogators, and saboteurs.

In recent times, Kayleth's father had been very hostile to his spies, something about their being inherently dishonorable and unworthy of living in Hamor. While he had not driven them out openly and with force, he did not tolerate even their practicing on foreigners on anything outside of their own missions. Funny what a man whose ideals were to have Hamorians become the strongest people in Elibe could do to some of the strongest people of Hamor. But then, the Duke wasn't particularly logical or rational in his decisions. Anything that didn't fit his ideals could be discarded, and spies were one of them.

Still, it meant that most of the Guild was averse to doing their jobs for the Duke, and for that Kayleth was grateful. They had thrown their lot in now with the Prince and Alice, whose brother they knew would be a much more reasonable master.

"We're heading for the citadel. Tell our people to keep the populace under control. Say that the fliers are reinforcements from Central. Hold my father's troops where they are for as long as possible."

"Yes, my Lord," Sebastian hurried back to the city.

Nearly two hundred Wyverns Knights and Pegasus Knights, for the most part the latter, carried Kayleth's Legion and some of the more elite troops under the Prince's banner to the citadel.

While normally dozens of watchtowers would have spotted them and spread the alarm, Hamor's secret service occupied those defenses. Some spies were waiting at the very top of the citadel, waving torches to indicate that it was safe to land.

"My Lord, Your Grace," one of the thieves greeted Kayleth and Alice. "The Duke is in the throne room with twenty guards."

"You, lead half my men to gates. You, the other half to the walls. Legio XVI, with me."

Kayleth and his Legion went in first.

The hallways and the rooms brought back memories. Such memories.

One of the maids saw the group. Alice showed her ring to her. She let them go.

"We're letting her go?" Jaffar asked. Killing all witnesses was a form of stealth in itself.

"She's decided to support Alice. No need. Heavies first, magi and archers move into support." Kayleth and his group reached the side entrance to the throne room. Jaffar opened the door a bit.

The side entrance was only accessible to those who came through the roof. Since the most serious threats were ground-bound and the ballistae crews at the top of the citadel hadn't reported in, no one was guarding the side entrance.

Twenty Coldstream Guards and the Duke were there. The Guards were by every pillar.

The throne room was huge enough to support twenty equally huge pillars. It had been made for dragons, after all.

"Jaffar, Legault, sneak in and take those two by the pillars closes to us. The rest will follow. Lord Wallace, are you ready?"

Wallace didn't deign answer, and the Assassins went through.

"Go, go, go," Kayleth urged the troops through the side entrance.

It took a minute to squeeze nearly a hundred troops through the entrance. Kayleth was confident that there was enough of a numerical superiority that there wouldn't be a problem overwhelming the guards.

The problem would be his father. He did not imagine direct confrontation in his early adulthood for a reason. His father supported his ideals with his strength.

Kayleth stepped through the entrance.

The troops he had sent in earliest had suffered heavy losses. Apparently, his father had expected an assault on the throne room. Cleverly placed dart and spike traps had killed nearly a third of his forces. Thankfully, it was the more expendable third that he had sent in earliest for just that reason and they had taken eleven of the guards with them.

Unfortunately, that gave the Duke time to arm himself. The main alarm bells of the citadel were also ringing, which meant that enough of the citadel guards had survived and were diverted to fend off the forces Kayleth had sent there. Very smart. The Duke must have hired a competent captain of the guards. The game was over if reinforcements arrived.

Fortunately, there were only ten defenders in the room and nearly seventy attackers, and Kayleth only needed one dead. They were prepared for an assault, but not an assault on this scale.

"Jaffar, Legault, Matthew, look for opportunities and strike if they present themselves. Senel, Ysa, Glaive, bring me the Duke's head. Lyn, stay with me. Rest of you, charge!"

Kayleth flinched as an Elfire blast struck Wil, who was standing right next to him.

"God damnit!" Kayleth hissed as he pulled off his cloak and tried to beat the fire out. A liberal dose of the emergency elixir he carried helped. "Wil, Rebecca, get up on that dragon head. I'll give you a boost. Er... Lyn, you might need to help me with Rebecca."

To his relief, Rebecca did not comment about his implications about her height, which was puny despite all the years that had passed.

The battle was going well. Kayleth counted five less defenders for only twelve less attackers. Among the casualties were Rika and Elcie, a Swordmaster and a Hero under Kayleth's employ for more than three years now. They'd be a headache to replace. He knew this might turn into a game of attrition but it would be annoying if his less expendable troops got themselves killed. Kayleth groaned as a deflected arrow pierced Hale, his best healer, in the eye and likely killing him. Eyes were one of the greatest weaknesses in humans, next only to brains and the heart. Everything else could be healed.

"Nino, come here!" Kayleth shouted. "Wil, Rebecca, take out that archer! Lord Wallace, you come here too!"

Wallace had done his job well, as usual. There was something about the rule of bulk which made humans, no matter how well-trained, concentrate on the biggest animal in the pack they were hunting. It made for more food, yes, but the main reason was that the humans that went for the biggest animal in the pack of predators and killed them survived. Those who concentrated on the smaller ones died. Humans are thus, by evolution, geared to focus on the biggest threat first. Wallace qualified as the biggest and most visible threat in the room.

"Nino, heal Wallace. Do not let him escape you." Wallace protested all the way through, insisting that he could kill them all for his liege. Lyn had to assist him in making him stand down.

The most visible threat on the defenders' side, on the other hand, had yet to die. Despite the three Kayleth had sent at him, the Duke still managed to cover his guards and by Kayleth's guess had slaughtered a good dozen of his troops. His strength, among other things, was why he was chosen over even Kayleth's formidable aunt and uncle.

Glaive fell first, his gambit overextending him and being rewarded with a decapitating blow. The Duke's armor was crafted by master artificers. They made sure to take care of joints.

His sister, Ysa, whom Kayleth had sent against his father solely for the purpose of getting her killed, flew into a rage and actually scored a blow to his chest with enough force to drive his sword into the armor.

The nearest guard tackled Ysa to the ground, and put a short axe through her skull.

Despite the healthy dose of rhetoric that Kayleth had fed Senel about his father, the madman sensed danger and backed off, but lost his footing in the blood of his comrades. Kayleth didn't need prescience to know he was as good as dead, even with the two soldiers that tried to interrupt the Duke's advance. That was a shame. Kayleth wanted to use his death elsewhere.

"Lyn, Nino, engage the Duke. Raven, Lucius, move into support! Geitz, use your axe!"

Duke Calgar's broadsword was made to combat dragons, and it was useful in facing large enemies. Kayleth held Lyn back for a reason. Lyn was not the enemy the sword was made for. Lyn's sword, on the other hand, was meant for heavy armor.

One tends to get tired swinging around huge broadswords meant for dragons. The Duke had little chance of striking Lyn.

When one added the element of two axe-swinging supports and two spellcasters, the Duke also had to be cautious of overextending himself. He only had two guards left, and they were being engaged by others.

Calgar cast off his helmet, the better to observe his surroundings. He flicked away Rebecca's arrow with the helm and concentrated on keeping Lyn at bay.

For her part, Lyn was flabbergasted by Calgar. He looked so much like Kayleth, with the same hair but longer and same eyes but burning with more passion and righteousness. He looked more hawkish, and angular, probably because Kayleth was affected by his mother.

"Raven, Geitz, press the attack! Guy, Cale, move into support!"

Alice looked away, as though unable to watch. Kayleth absentmindedly patted her head while keeping his attention on the remaining defenders and the flood of communication stone reports coming from all over the citadel. The Legions at the walls and the passageways were pulling back towards the citadel, and would be on them within ten minutes. The citadel itself was far from secure, with loyalists that had home-field advantage playing hide and seek with Kayleth's troops.

Now there were four fast-moving light infantry and a heavy axeman who Calgar had to keep his attention on.

They proved to be too much, and the Mani Katti slashed a deep cut into the Duke's stomach. Geitz's hammer followed, hitting the same spot that Ysa tore open before she was killed.

"Everyone, halt!" Kayleth shouted with as much authority and threat as he could muster. Even his father's guards stopped. "This battle is over! You, guards! Surrender your weapons!"

The two remaining guards did as they were told, knowing that their liege would die no matter what they did.

Kayleth and Alice walked over to their father.

"Kuh…" Calgar was choking up blood. Kayleth surmised that his lungs were damaged by the ribs caved inward. He also noted the injury to his stomach, which was probably going to be the main cause of death.

"It's okay, Lyn. He's no threat to anyone," Kayleth said. Lyn sheathed her sword, but kept her hand on the hilt.

"So… long time no see, Your Grace."

"Kayleth… traitorous son of mine," Calgar growled.

"I am no son of yours," Kayleth spat. "You have no children, unless you had illegitimate ones and mother allowed them to live, both of which I highly doubt."

Calgar frowned, pausing. "I regret that, yes… but that is the fate of those born to our House. We cannot afford to make mistakes. We cannot afford to be weak. This Duchy, for three centuries after the Scouring, was the poorest one in all of Elibe. Then, Duke Park outlawed poverty. Now, the Duchy of Hamor can wage war with the rest of Bern, and have a reasonable chance of victory."

Kayleth sat next to his father's head. "And what gave you the right to kill off my brothers and sisters, hmm? Did they sign a contract?" Kayleth snarled, "What gives you the right to kill off useful members of society, your children no less, for no better a reason than picking the next heir? What gives you the right to torture your children, some of whom didn't even want to be the next Duke or Duchess? When did you ever give your  
children choice?"

"Choice is a luxury that ones in our position cannot afford," Calgar snarled back.

"I don't know when I signed on to a gladiator-slave contract. That's exactly what being your child meant."

"But it made you strong."

Kayleth nodded, smiling. "Which is one of the two things I am grateful to you for. You heard of my campaign against the Black Fang, yes? There was a Druid who actually opened the Dragon's Gate using that organization. Three dragons came through. All were slain under my command and the Gate closed."

Calgar's eyes sparkled, contradicting his actual physical state. "Really? You'll have to tell me more. It's a vindication of my educational style, isn't it?"

"It is not," Lyn snapped, hard-pressed as she already was not to decapitate him..

"Ah, let me introduce you to my wife, Lyndis, Marchioness of Caelin. Lyn, this is Calgar, Duke of Hamor, the one who provided the seed in my conception."

"You do realize that means I'm your father?" Calgar snorted.

Kayleth shook his head sharply. "No. Fathers teach, yes. They discipline, yes. They provide sustenance, yes. But, they also have an obligation to protect, nurture, comfort, and train their children to be independent adults. In case the point is lost on you, you have failed in all of the latter obligations. Not only that, you actively hurt my siblings, and indirectly caused the deaths of all but one of them."

"Ah… so Alice lives. Good…. You do realize that by that logic, you also indirectly caused the deaths of all but one of your siblings."

"Self-defense, kill or be killed, extenuating circumstances," Kayleth answered. "In summation, Duke Calgar of the House of Winterfell, I find you guilty of criminal abuse of children, murder, mass-murder, and failure in your duties as peer of the realm. The sentence is death."

"I never failed in my duties as peer of the realm," Calgar growled. "If you think your precious Prince will be a better King than the one who sits the throne right now? You're a fool! Something is wrong with him!" Calgar pointed at Zephiel. "Look at him! Look at his eyes! Look at the way he speaks and acts, as I have, and you'll realize you have a worse tyrant in the making."

Kayleth chuckled. "I have detected none of that, and you know what kind of training I have in that field. Even if he becomes a tyrant, what I bring up, I can cast down."

"No! You have to see!" Calgar said, coughing up yet more blood in his strain. "Guinevere is a far better choice for the throne! Besides, isn't this civil war costing more lives than the King's tyranny is?!"

"True… but we would have had a civil war anyways. Two decades worth of more reform will counterbalance the losses of the civil war. I am a noble. I must look to the future."

"You're making a mistake-"

"Ah," Kayleth said. "And the one other reason I am grateful to you."

Alice entered the throne room, blood dripping down her sword. She led a squad of Wyvern Knights through the doors.

"Secure the armory. It's down that hallway, down one flight of stairs, second corridor to the right, first door on the left. You can't miss it," Alice said, and walked over to her father.

"Alice," Calgar breathed, and Kayleth was surprised by his tears. He reached out with his right hand. "How beautiful you've become, like your mother."

"… Father," Alice sheathed her sword, and curtsied. It hurt Kayleth to see the sorrow on her face. "Kayleth, must we-"

"He must die for his crimes," Kayleth cut her off. "He must die for the revolution to succeed."

"Fanaticism," Calgar sneered. "The latter statement, that is. The revolution will not succeed. The civil war only delays the inevitable. Bern needs an external outlet for its national energies."

"The new continent-"

"Too far," the dying Duke countered. "The more pertinent policies would involve rehabilitation of Nabata and the invasion of Sacae."

"No. It is the lowering of taxes and national disarmament," Kayleth said. "Which the Prince will deliver."

"Temporary stopgaps at best, kua!" Calgar groaned, coughing up yet more blood. "But enough of politics. I see that I can't change your mind. I might as well make the best of my last few minutes. Kayleth, Alice… I regret what had to be done for your upbringing. Will you forgive me?"

Alice took his hand, and took off his gauntlet. She held his hand to her forehead, "Yes… no matter what you did, you are the reason I exist. It's not your fault. Elibe is Elibe, not Elysium."

"Thank you… my youngest child," Calgar whispered. "How I regret, how I so regret, regret above anything else, that I could not see you grow up and cannot see you married. How I wish I could die a thousand deaths if only that could let me see you grow and marry. Ah…" Calgar turned to Kayleth. "Do I have grandchildren? I assume I do, but are any alive?"

Kayleth debated whether he should tell him or not. On the one hand, he wanted Calgar to suffer. On the other, it would cause Alice suffering. Kayleth spoke with the greatest reluctance, "Two granddaughters, yes…."

Alice smiled at the thought of her two nieces, "Madelyn is eight, and looks a lot like what I imagine Lyn," Alice pointed at her, "looked like when she was a child. Same hair and complexion. She's like Kayleth, but nicer, and more perceptive. Pearl is four, and looks something like what I imagine mother and I looked like when we were children. She has the purest white hair and light grey eyes, rather like a snow fairy. Erm…" Alice held out her right hand to Kayleth.

He was confused at first, but understood. Alice took the grudgingly offered locket, and opened it, showing it to her father.

"Ha! How adorable. Done by a powerful mage?" Alice nodded, pointing to Nino. Calgar chuckled, "They don't at all take after you, son."

"You realize that means they don't take after you, either," Kayleth muttered, "and I'm thankful for it."

"I'd make a great grandfather," Calgar paused. "Ah… but I won't live to see them."

"… In answer to your original question, yes, I forgive you for all you have done to me," Kayleth said. "If nothing else, you made me what I am, and that I am what I am saved Elibe, sheltered Alice, and produced Madelyn and Pearl. You beat the weakness out of me, and forced me to hone my strengths. For that, I am eternally grateful, father."

"… But?"

"I will never forgive you for failure of your duty as Duke, I will never forgive you for the death of my siblings, I will never forgive you for hurting Alice, and I will never forgive you for leaving my children without grandparents. Wait for me in hell, and I'll come for you."

"That I will," Calgar nodded. "Though you may not accept it, I am proud of you, my bravest child… the bravest man I had ever seen… and a better heir than I ever hoped for." He snorted, coughing up more blood. "May you see the truth about Zephiel… and take care of my daughter and granddaughters."

"They're mine," Kayleth frowned. "I protect what is mine."

"Yes, yours…. Alice, will you give me a kiss?"

Alice obliged, pecking him on his cheek. Warm tears, from both, wet Calgar's cheek.

"Ah… Viviane?" Calgar gasped, reaching out with his hand. Kayleth flinched, reflexively batting the hand away in case it was his last effort at harming either Alice or himself.

It was his last breath.

Kayleth took the amethyst Hawk Ring from him, and slipped it on the middle finger of his right hand. It was a ring with ancient history. All nobles and Knights who served the Duchy of Hamor swore their service to whoever wore the ring, the master of Winterfell and the King's hawk. It carried enormous power, and with its power came correspondingly many duties.

The ring did not kill him. It was unnecessary, he knew, since he wasn't going to reign as Duke. It was an affirmation of his essence, though, and it felt good to be pronounced worthy.

"Alice, Lyn, Your Highness, Murdock, with me," Kayleth said, and saw that his sister was sobbing. "The battle is not over. The main force must be pacified. To the balcony."

Lyn comforted Alice on the way, holding her while also half dragging her. That she would take her parents' loss so badly saddened Kayleth. He thought it was no more and no less than justice, but it was regrettable that Alice would be harmed by it.

As for himself, Kayleth had long disavowed his parents. He understood their motivations, and even thanked them for his training, but he would never forgive them. The thought that they were tormenting Alice even in their deaths made his blood boil.

The 'balcony' was actually the term for the lowest battlements of the citadel, the seventh and final circle of the great walls that acted as guardians of Winterfell. Despite the efficiency of Legio XVI and the infiltrators Kayleth had brought, the alarm had spread. The troops stationed at the two outermost walls had pulled back. Highlander Legions had their banners unfurled right outside the gate, and were bringing in a fortified ram.

Kayleth extended his hand, and breathed his will into the the ring. An enormous black hawk with flaming red outlines emerged, the apparition large enough to rival a dragon.

The Hamorians stopped in their tracks, seeing the hawk and the ring on Kayleth's hand.

"Alice, it is your turn," Kayleth said.

Alice concentrated, willing the hawk in her ring to emerge. The pearl shone as the apparition of an equally large white hawk with flaming red outlines emerged.

Silence reigned the citadel for a moment.

They recognized Kayleth, most of them having seen his face at least once in young adulthood. They could not fail to recognize the similarity of Alice's features with her mother Viviane's. Comprehension dawned on them.

"The Duke is dead," a lone voice from among the Hamorian ranks, Kayleth could not tell whose, rang out. "Long live the Duchess! Vivat Regina!"

The cry was taken up by another, then the squad, then the Legion, until the whole citadel thundered with the cry. "The Duke is dead! Long live the Duchess!"

Alice sobbed at the cry. She was thankful that no one could see her tears in the dead of night.

* * *

The throne room was cleansed of all the blood and gore from the battle.

The skulls of the fourteen dragons who had betrayed their own and given humanity the castle watched Alice from every angle. Kayleth told her that it was to remind the Dukes and Duchesses the price of idiocy and placing sentimentality over survival. Alice was now the guardian of this Duchy's survival.

The throne wasn't a particularly comfortable one. Made of white marble, it was cold. The throne room was near the top of the citadel of Winterfell, and was thus cold.

Not cold enough to be impractical, but cold enough to make most petitioners uncomfortable, which meant all of the people of Hamor to witness her ascension were uncomfortable.

That was all well and good, because Alice did not feel comfortable in the seat.

Three of her siblings, siblings she had not even known existed, had fought each other and died for this throne. Kayleth was not a particularly nice man, but to her, he was the best brother one could ask for. To think that she could have had four older siblings like him and that they were all taken away in the name of the old game, survival of the fittest for the throne, appalled her.

Kayleth, the only brother she'd ever known, had killed one of them and their mother to get her on the throne. Lyn, practically her new mother or older sister, killed her father for the throne. According to Kayleth, her eldest sister was killed by General Murdock.

Alice vowed that such brutal and senseless struggle would never again happen. Not within her House, at least. Several laws would be enacted expressly for that purpose.

The voices in the ring whispered to her. There were so many opinions. Thankfully, they only talked when she asked for advice, but it was difficult to tell whose opinion was the wisest. Kayleth recommended the third but he seemed to be such an arrogant bastard it was difficult to agree with anything he whispered no matter how rational.

Her parents were there, too, but their voices were much subdued. It seemed that the more ancient the ancestor, the louder the voice. She could vaguely make out their encouragements, their love, and heir warning against the Prince. Alice supposed that they'd get over their irrational fear of the Prince in due course.

"Alice," a voice hissed, bringing her out of her reverie. "You can do whatever you wish, but daydreaming at your own ascension is not included in that category."

Kayleth loathed ceremonies, considering them to be a waste of time and other resources, but appreciating them for the few values they had. For him, they were bothersome necessities.

Normally, it would be the most senior Senator who'd crown the new Duke or Duchess. On this occasion, however, it was the Prince who was doing the crowning.

Alice tried to keep the colors from showing on her face as the Prince lowered the crown on to her head, smiling all the while. She wondered what his lips would taste like. She refrained from finding out, knowing it would result in the Prince's death by poisoning some time during the feast, courtesy of her brother.

Speaking of her brother, he took the circlet from the surprised Prince's hands, and put it on her head.

"Long live the Duchess," he said.

"Long live Duchess Alice!" the rest of the room thundered.

"Thank you, thank you all," Alice smiled as she had practiced at her subjects. "Please, I know how uncomfortable this room is and how hungry you are. Well, at least I am, so I won't keep myself for long from the feast."

The people laughed boisterously, seeking to bring their merriment and joy to their new ruler. Alice regretted at having not paid attention and letting her expression slip. They must have seen the sorrow for her family members to try so hard.

She vowed for the umpteenth time to be a ruler worthy of such worthy subjects.

"My first act is to make my brother Regent and Count of Ashwick, until such a time that I have completed my training."

Polite cheers rose from the crowd. They, especially the seasoned statesmen and nobles, had expected something of the sort.

"My second act is to declare what you already know. The current King of Bern is not a worthy heir of Hartmut, and we will destroy him."

"Death to the King!" someone in the crowd shouted, and the shout was taken up by many others.

More cheers greeted that act. The vast majority of Hamorians were tired of the King's ridiculous taxes and mismanagement of resources. They did not approve of him on the personal level, either, citing his unfaithfulness, irrational cruelty, and unwillingness to improve.

"My third act is the mobilization of all Hamorians under the age of sixty. We go to war."

"Are our armies marching on Central, Your Grace?!" one of the younger Knights shouted.

"Eventually, yes. I intend to put the King's head on a pike bearing the Hawk banner," Alice said, to the approval of most in the room.

"Anything else, Your Grace?"

"Oh. Well, I guess. My fourth decree is that the law banning public drunkenness is null for tonight! To the dining halls! Tonight, we celebrate the victory that is to come!"

The crowd roared their approval, hooting and clapping.

It was Hamorian tradition to have a victory feast before they went to war, and the ruler of the Duchy was one of the main sources of entertainment in such feasts. Alice yelped as she was lifted off the throne by dozens of men and women and carried towards the dining halls.

* * *

Kayleth sat on the throne.

It was after the night of the victory festivities, nearly twenty four hours since he had killed his father. Most in the citadel were sleeping, tired from all the eating, drinking, copulating, and whatnot.

To sit on the throne used to be a dream of his, but Kayleth had never imagined what the price would be.

A civil war unlike any seen in the last seven centuries. All but one of his siblings. His parents were a given, since he'd only be able to sit with them dead.

He couldn't say if it was worth it. Kayleth now had the authority and capability to wage war against the rest of Elibe, and still he couldn't say if it was worth it.

"Having fun?" Kayleth nearly jumped out as he saw his father.

It was a hallucination, of course. His mother appeared as well. Both were younger than when they had died. Their insights might be useful enough later but several people were watching him at the moment.

"Is anything wrong, my Lord?" Sebastian asked.

It was good to have a competent butler again. He wondered how he'd lived without one for nearly one and a half decades. Horrible, miserable decades punctuated by brief spikes of joy. Fear of discovery increasing with each passing year. Regret at not being present at Madelyn's birth. Rage at his lack of precaution that led to his second child being stillborn. Alice getting blood on her hands.

In light of those decades, the price was worth it.

Considering his temperament, Kayleth had modest ambitions. To have such power that if Pearl were to walk down the most dangerous streets at the capital naked, hungry, and thirsty, she'd be returned to him clothed, fed, and watered. They'd simply know that her father had the power to reward them or to exterminate all living beings in that street. It didn't particularly matter why.

Not that Pearl would ever lack for guards, of course. Kayleth eyed Al, who was being trained as a butler by Sebastian. Unfortunately, Sebastian's own children had applied for other professions. Mildly inconvenient under these circumstances, but people chose what they wanted to do in Hamor. It created problems when a blacksmith for instance had no successors, but that's why they had the most advanced financial system in Elibe. A prospective blacksmith, provided he or she had passed the examinations, could get a loan or an investment so as to be able to rent, build, or buy a smithy.

Kayleth wondered what he'd do next. There were the occasional battles that he'd have to command as the Regent, of course. There were matters of state that ought to keep him entertained for a while. Observing his youngest daughter was always amusing. The Academy'd accept his work on the social sciences. Maybe he'd look into the other continent, though safe travel to and from it was still a matter of extraordinary luck. A pity. He could have invaded it if it was closer.

Sebastian at least had the good sense to know when his master was thinking. Competent subordinates were so hard to come by. Competent and loyal ones even more so. He'd have to send him away when he expanded his business.

"Have someone fetch Murdock."

"Erm... this late into the night? Even if he's sleeping?"

"Especially if he's sleeping. Al, I want you to stick your finger up Murdock's nostrils if he's sleeping," Kayleth replied, without a trace of a smile.

Sebastian knew him well enough to recognize sarcasm. Al would have to work on it to become a good servant. Al and a maid went away to wake up Murdock.

"So... a copper for your thoughts?" Sebastian said.

"I'm wondering what to do after the war."

"You seem pretty confident that you'll win," Sebastian flicked a copper at Kayleth. Kayleth pocketed it so he could use it to ask for someone else's thoughts later.

"Please. How many times have I lost in a competition?"

"Well, there were the innumerable sparring sessions-"

"In contests that matter," Kayleth rolled his eyes. Sebastian knew too much about his early years. "Say nothing of my childhood if Alice or Lyn ask."

"Her Grace is-"

"As long as I'm Regent."

"Of course, my Lord."

"... Aren't you going to ask me about Nestor?"

"I don't need to," Sebastian shrugged. "My father died on the line of duty."

"One of the most regrettable deaths in this war," Kayleth frowned as he took his tea. It was excellent. Only the best of Hamorian chefs worked at the citadel, and there was at least one on duty at any given time. "I'm sorry. He was too strong to capture alive."

"That sounds like my father," Sebastian nodded with approval.

"I will enact bonuses for outstanding service to the Duchy, which you and your siblings will inherit. His body has been preserved, and will be interred at the crypt of the House of the Valiant. You and your family members are excused of all duties this coming Monday, unless you wish to have the funeral earlier."

"Kay-my Lord, you should have left such minor details to-"

"Alice and I will be there, too. She will learn what fitting reward for services rendered means. I expect many of his colleagues will attend as well."

Sebastian was going to protest more, but he knew how futile it was to argue with his childhood friend and master on matters that he cared about.

"Sunday will be my parents' funeral, of course. I want you and Nino to carry my mother. Countess Teletha and Murdock will carry my father."

"... My father is still dead."

"Yes, Nestor is dead. I have promised the future of his blood relations. Even in death he provides for his family. You should be proud."

"He was old enough. Claimed the Prince would be as much of a tyrant as the King is."

Kayleth snorted at the memory. "Better to die than to lose your mind."

"He must have been imagining things," Sebastian chuckled.

Murdock entered the throne room, yawning and stretching. Al followed closely. "You called?"

"I did. Sebastian, I'm hungry. Go make me clam chowder and a sandwich, now!"

"Yes, milord."

"Mind if I share?" Murdock said.

"Not at all."

"What did you call me for? It's nearly four in the morning."

Kayleth pointed at Al, and then the two other maids in the throne room. Then, he pointed at Murdock.

"A maid could take a Wyvern General any day, my Lord," one of the maids boasted, understanding Kayleth's point. Kayleth loved that about Hamorians. They knew when to be inappropriate. The boast was patently untrue, of course. It'd take four to six well-trained ones to take on Murdock. Eight or so to be sure of victory.

Despite the age difference, Kayleth believed he would have no objections to his marrying Alice. In a few years, maybe, to give the world the benefit of the doubt.

"I have no doubt you can," Kayleth laughed. "I'll be going to sleep in a few minutes. You two are dismissed. Al, go to Sebastian's room and sleep."

The throne room was now empty of all save Kayleth and Murdock.

"You sent them away for a reason," Murdock realized.

"Your ears only. Maximum operational security," Kayleth nodded with all due seriousness. "On Tuesday, my Legion, the Prince, and I will be gone."

"What?!"

"I need you to believe in me for this one. Have I ever led you to defeat?"

"I should at least know-"

"None can know, and you're not a good liar, Murdock."

"Not even General Vaida?"

"Oh, I've told a couple of people. You're not that important, you know?"

"Har har. Who else?"

"The Wyvern Generals, with the assistance of my aunt, will defend Winterfell until such a time that the Prince sends word."

"This better be a brilliant plan, Kayleth."

Kayleth sniffed in indignation. "I'm offended. It's nothing short of inspirational."

"Will Her Grace be here?"

"No. I haven't been able to convince her in that regard," Kayleth grimaced, recalling that particular conversation. "She has more official authority than I do, too. It's annoying me."

"She'll be a great leader. The people love her."

"Only because she's so different from our father. They will come to love her on her own merits, but do not delude yourself. They will spurn her as soon as things start going wrong, and it could go very wrong if my plans go wrong."

"What do you mean if your plans go wrong?!"

"While I usually don't favor all-or-nothing bets, this particular plan is one such bet."

"I don't like the sound of this plan, Kayleth," Murdock began.

"You don't need to. Obey, and all will be well. My endgame is perfection, and you know I do not use the word lightly."

* * *

Finally. I'll wrap up the story some time next week, take my exams, and polish the grammar on this one and Debt of Honor.

Fear, shock, lights, fire, terror! Don't give them time to recover morale!


	11. The Endgame

The domed and circular hall of the Conclave could seat every single noble in Bern.

Literally, from babes to senile old men, every single noble in Bern, and still have space left over.

The only ways in were the sliding stone doors controlled by ancient draconic mechanisms of inhuman ingenuity, and these control mechanisms were inside the hall. There was also a storage room underneath the open space in the middle of the hall containing a well leading to an underground aquifer as well as jarred and pickled foods to last years.

Aside from the mechanisms, the only way in was a full-scale siege with catapults to break the hall open.

The 'safe room' didn't avail the dragons much when humans simply dumped a massive amount of poison tailored for dragons inside the aquifer. The dragons who tried to escape were slaughtered by the Eight.

Still, for the besiegers to poison the aquifer with something that would work on humans would take massive amounts of poison and would be tantamount to suicide as it was the only source of water for many miles.

Ever since the end of the Scouring, the hall had been used as the meeting place for the Conclave of nobles, the ruling legislative body of the Kingdom of Bern.

Nearly half the seats were empty, and the King presided over the podium. A hundred Praetorians watched over the proceedings, the only armed men and women in the hall. Twenty surrounded the King, watching over the King and a mysterious coffin he had insisted on bringing in.

"Ah, our guest of honor has arrived," the King's laughter rumbled. "Seal the hall."

The granite doors of the hall slid shut, and the assembled nobles turned their attention to Kayleth.

The Praetorians guarding the entrance brought the tactician to the podium. The nobles were astonished to see one of the major instigators of the revolution.

Not a single piece of cloth covered his body, which was nailed to the cross. His left eye had been branded, the markings spelling out 'traitor'.

"Wake him up," the King said, his voice dripping with contempt.

A Praetorian splashed water over him, and Kayleth woke up with a start.

He screamed at the pain burning at his ankles and his palms.

"Betrayer! Oath-breaker!" Kayleth screamed at the King. Then his attention turned to the assembled nobles, and he sneered. "Inbred southern incompetents. What's your problem? Never seen one so big? I'll kill you. I'll kill you all! In this life or the next I'll have my revenge!"

"It'll have to be the next," one of the nobles of the Inner Duchies snorted. "With you gone, the young Duchess and the Prince do not have a chance in hell of withstanding the combined might of our Legions."

Kayleth grinned. "I know you don't honestly believe your Legions can defeat the Legions of Hamor. This time, we will wipe out all of you inbred garbage and take the land for ourselves!"

"My Ladies and Lords of the Conclave. I present to you Lord Kayleth of Winterfell," the King declared with relish. "And he has been kind enough to accept my invitation to be prime minister… in exchange for bringing my errant son in a coffin. Let it not be said that the King does not keep his promises. I hereby grant you the position of prime minister. You'll have to sign this parchment to make it official." The King tapped on a piece of parchment on the podium. Even the ink and the quill were readily available. Of course, Kayleth couldn't get to it in his current situation.

Princess Guinevere choked in tears as she realized that her brother was dead.

"And you," Kayleth leered. "The worst failure of a Bernese King since the fifth. I should have had our special forces kill you a decade ago. How does it feel to stand on the corpse of your brother on the throne? A brother who would've been a great King at that. You parricidal maniac."

"Ha! You have the temerity to say that?! You, who killed your uncle, mother, and father?!"

"So you don't deny it?" Kayleth laughed. "And this Conclave doesn't care! What have you bribed them with, oh great heir of Hartmut?"

"Slavery back in the Inner Duchies!" the King said in triumph. "The disbanding of Hamor into three separate Duchies again! Cancelling of the executive order that forces the Inner Duchies to send grain to the Outer Duchies!"

Kayleth was taken aback. While he had expected some sort of a major concession, he had not expected the Big Three, the concessions that Bern's eighteenth King had made following the successful conclusion of the civil war seven hundred years ago.

The King had allowed Hamor's conquest of two other Duchies, forced the Inner Duchies to send grain to the Outer Duchies so that they could concentrate on defense against foreign powers, and abolished slavery in the realm.

Terror struck at Kayleth. The implications were beyond the proportions of anything he had been expecting. The nobles of the Inner Duchies had absolutely no reason to support the Prince.

All great nations are based on an idea, a faith shared by the people that live within and make them what they are. The three major decrees were one of them. Bern went to war over Etruria a couple of times just because of the slavery issue.

"You… you would betray the Eighteenth?!" Kayleth was livid, and spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed. "You must be a bastard! No, really, I'm positive that some stable boy had carnal relations with your mother! You can't possibly be of the line of Hartmut. You've promised what?! I hope, no, I know there's a special place in the pits of inferno waiting for you. I will make sure history erases you! You hear me? Erase you! You won't be remembered by anyone! No!"

"How will you do that when you're dead?" the King chuckled as the assembled nobles jeered at Kayleth. The three concessions had been a thorn in their sides for centuries, despite Hamorian academics publishing data that suggested slavery actually slowed economic growth.

Kayleth screamed in impotent rage, and the Conclave was enjoying the spectacle of a scion of Winterfell brought so low.

"We will bid my son his last goodbye. Then, we'll bid the Lord Kayleth goodbye. Oh… maybe I'll put off his execution until his sister is in my custody," the King's smile widened. "I hear Her Grace is quite the beauty. She would make an adequate concubine for the King of Bern."

"Assuming you can take Winterfell, which your inbred incompetents won't be able to," Kayleth smirked. "Is it awkward, my Lords and Ladies, when you draw your family trees? All seem to result in knots and ties?"

There was a clamor of outrage from the nobles, urging the King to just execute him now.

The King put his hands up, "Let us at least let him pay his respects to the liege he's betrayed. Praetorians, open the coffin."

Two of the Praetorians around him unlocked the coffin, and opened the coffin. The wooden coffin was a piece of work done by an artificer-class woodworker of Hamor, a work of art with inlaid gold, a frieze depicting ancient Scouring battles, and intricate locking mechanisms made by one of the finest silversmiths Hamor could offer. The smoothest silk covered the edges and the Pegasus feathers were stuffed into pillows on all sides. It was a coffin fit for royalty and more. God would be content in it.

The assembled Conclave gasped in horror at what lay within.

The King was puzzled, and stepped forwards to look inside the coffin.

For all the artistry and painstaking labor that had gone into the coffin, it was ironic that the coffin was also quite empty.

"What is the meaning of this?!" the King roared in anger. "The Praetorians who brought it in said my son's in here! Guards!"

Kayleth started chuckling. The chuckle became roaring laughter.

"What is the meaning of this?" the monarch of Bern snarled. "Did you bring the wrong coffin? Yes, that must be the answer! Guards!"

"It is the right coffin!" Kayleth said, still laughing.

"What do you mean?! Speak!" the King shouted in hysterical rage.

Kayleth turned his head to address the Conclave as well as the King.

"Do you think me such a fool that I'd gamble my life on the honor of this cockroach? I knew the King would send his Praetorians to collect me. In sending them, though, there is one factor the King has not considered: nearly half of his Praetorians are Hamorians, and the Duchy is against the King for the first time in history."

"My Praetorians are loyal!" the King sneered. "You might have noticed that you're crucified while I'm in perfect health."

Kayleth ignored the retard, "Bearing the authority of the Duchy on our rings, my sister and I convinced the Hamorians among the Praetorians sent to kill the other Praetorians. Naturally, I brought my own Legion along to help. The loyalist Praetorians were all dead. Now, what to do?"

Kayleth smirked at the realization dawning on some of the assembled nobles. "Why, strip the Praetorians of their armors and masks, and masquerade my own troops along with the Hamorian survivors past the guards of the palace where the King would lock himself up in the safe room with you treasonous whores."

As one, the Praetorians in the room unsheathed their weapons. The King and the Conclave found themselves at their utter mercy, completely helpless. Some of the nobles tried to resist but resistance without power or public forum for martyrdom was meaningless.

"You are not free whose liberty is won by the rigor of other, more honorable, men. You are merely protected… your freedom is parasitic. You suck the honorable men dry and offer nothing in return," Kayleth spat at the assembled members of the Conclave. "Now... now you will learn what happens when you have no one to turn your parasitic teeth on."

Some Praetorians moved to remove Kayleth from the crucifix, taking out the nails and healing him with staves. He was soon clothed, and took the podium where the King had been standing.

"It was simple enough to get past the guards, for the surviving Hamorian Praetorians knew all the right codes and the masks guarded my soldiers' identities," Kayleth continued. "And thus, I find myself in a room where the power of violence is monopolized by me, cut off from the outside as you know perfectly well."

"What're you going to do, kill us?" one of the Ladies shrieked.

"While I think you deserve nothing less than years of rape, torture, and painful deaths, no. You will be kept hostages so that your armies will stand down. Furthermore, conspiring against the edicts of the Eighteenth King is not treachery per se," Kayleth shrugged. "It will ultimately rest on the judgment of our new King, but I cannot claim to know how many of you are good leaders and how many are incompetents. You will be kept alive."

"New King?" someone said.

"That would be me," one of the Praetorians lowered his visor. "I am Prince Zephiel, first son of the King."

Said King screeched in fear and fury, trying to back away as Zephiel approached like an inexorable god of death.

Kayleth took the delay as an opportunity to gloat. "It is not enough that I achieve victory; my enemy must suffer total defeat. It is not enough that I kill; all my foes must die. It is not enough that I succeed; my enemies must fail. The meaning of victory is to not merely defeat your enemy but to destroy him, to completely eradicate him from memory, to leave no remnant of his endeavors, to crush utterly his achievements, and remove from all records his every trace of existence. From that defeat, no enemy can recover. That is the meaning of victory, and with you, oh King, I will have that victory."

"And this, father... this is my succession." Zephiel whirled on his father, and with a single vertical stroke, split his head in two.

"The King is dead!" Kayleth crowed with glee. "Long live the King!"

The Praetorians took up his cry, and at sword-point, so did the Conclave. Thus started the reign of King Zephiel, the first of his name, in hallowed ground and bathed in his father's blood.

* * *

Kayleth watched his youngest play on Princess Guinevere's lap.

Days after the death of the King, messages borne by Wyvern Knights ordered the Legions to stand down and stop fighting. All of the nobility and the Knights were required to assemble at the capital a month hence, and the civilian levies were dismissed. Mercenaries were paid and sent home, for there was to be no fighting, on the pain of death, during that month.

His daughters were brought from Ostia, escorted by two Legions of Hamorian mercenary companies, to witness their House's triumph. More specifically, his triumph. Kayleth thought it'd be good to show them early their station in life.

Today was the day of Prince Zephiel's coronation.

It was the last step to Kayleth's short-term goals: the replacement of the dotard King, the enthronement of his sister, and progress in Bern.

After the celebrations that day the King was slain, Kayleth marveled at the cost of victory. Thousands of Bernese dead, which mattered nothing to him. Hundreds of Hamorian dead, for which there was genuine sorrow. The death of his old mentor and caretaker, Vicary and Nestor, whose families he had personally seen honored. The death of all but one of his siblings, which was a tragedy that he promised would never again occur in his House. The death of his parents, who were blinded by their ideals but meant well and did their duties, ultimately saving Elibe from a Second Scouring through him.

Coming so soon after the Black Fang debacle, this was a blood-bath to satisfy at least two generations of humanity in Elibe. Kayleth's children and grandchildren would know nothing of war. At least they'd need to know nothing of war.

A famous general had said that only defeat could be as melancholy as victory. Kayleth was a mastermind, a builder of systems and a forward-looking person. Even he could not help but wonder whether the price was worth it.

"You're being silly, son of mine. Of course it was," Duke Calgar said, taking a seat to his right. Kayleth knew it was a hallucination, of course, for he had killed his father.

"Legions under your command. Hamor under your regency. A King who owes everything to you, and will remember it. A brighter future for a reformed Bern," Duchess Viviane said, taking the seat to his left. "War is about victory, not glory."

"Unless, of course, you think King Zephiel would fail your expectations? As both your mother and I predicted?" Calgar asked.

"I will not allow that to happen. We will prosper on Elibe. The continent will eventually unite. Then, we'll take over the other continents, and then the world. After the world, we'll take to the stars. I will lay the foundations to humanity's ascendance within my lifetime," Kayleth vowed. He worried though, for if the hallucinations were thinking that, it meant he was thinking that. He wondered if he missed something. Surely the Prince of all people would know the cost of war and especially parricidal warfare now. War was to be fought with specific objectives and the ability to achieve those objectives with minimal casualties.

"Am ambitious goal, which is why your ancestors and I deemed you worthy of the throne," Calgar said.

Kayleth's fingers brushed over the ring in his pocket. "Alice and I will lead the Duchy to a new golden age. Count on it."

"It already is. Our Duchy has no need to enforce population control on the Inner Duchies for generations now. Damage to our lands were superficial. Some of your closest associates are Prime Minister and Wyvern General of Bern. The King owes you everything. Look. A Princess makes time to be my granddaughter's playmate," Viviane giggled. "What a lovely picture the two make. If one were asked to describe perfection, surely this moment would explain something of it."

"Perfection doesn't last. You know as well as I do that I can never be perfectly content by the present," Kayleth murmured. "I will always worry for the future, hope for the future, and prepare for the future."

"... But?" Viviane prompted.

"Sometimes, the present reminds me of the future I wage war for," Kayleth's heart skipped a beat as Pearl tripped, but the Princess was there to catch her. "I am what I am. In the end, I am an endlessly self-centered man. I want reform because I want to live in a more reasonable world. I want humanity to prosper because my children will prosper. Those are fundamental human impulses, in the breast of all men and women walking this Earth. I am different only in the regard that I'm far better equipped than most to make those impulses reality."

"Anything for Pearl," Calgar observed.

"Lyn is my partner, and I'll never condescend to her by parenting her. Alice is now a grown woman, and will soon have the maturity to match. I have missed much of Madelyn's childhood, but I now have the time to make it mostly right. But Pearl... my brightest creation, so full of potential. Do you know why I named her that?"

"We represent aspects of you, so you know we know," Viviane rolled her eyes, intent on her granddaughter.

Pearl was now five years old. The war made him miss her birthday, less than four days prior to sending her away to Ostia, guarded by the likes of Serra, Oswin, and Hector. Her silken white hair was a distinct contrast to Kayleth's own disheveled black hair. Her personality was so radically different from his, even with the consideration that she was a child. Extroverted where he was introverted, and emotional where he was logical. Time had yet to tell her full psychological profile, but Kayleth was sure it would amuse him, just as Lyn's personality amused him.

He knew all there was to know about his own kind. Others were more interesting in their unpredictability.

"A pearl can be black or white. By my training and actions, I am steeped in darkness. There can be no pretense at my own innocence. But Pearl... I will do anything to make sure she burns bright. She will be the light to my darkness. She will be the passion to my reason. She will be the alpha to my omega. Pearl will be whoever she wants to be, and woe betide anyone who even thinks about stopping her."

Kayleth's hallucinations faded away as the bells of the cathedral tolled. It was near time for the coronation. Pearl ran with a vivacity that could only be in children to his side.

"Princess Guinevere wants you to wake up, papa."

"I can only wake up with the kiss of a Princess," Kayleth beamed as he leaned forward so she could kiss him.

Pearl's right hand slapped his left cheek and pushed him away to Kayleth's bewilderment and disappointment.

Instead, Kayleth felt pressure on his left eye, through his eyepatch. He realized Pearl had kissed his left eye.

It seemed a trivial sacrifice, an eye. When compared to the other sacrifices, it certainly was. Nearly as many Bernese had died in this war as they had during the war against Nergal. He would only regret that he only had one eye to see Pearl. He would only regret that he had one eye left to sacrifice for Pearl. Otherwise, it was trivial.

There was no price he could not pay to secure her future. If a daemon of legends were to offer him power to secure her future in exchange for everything he had left, he would take the Faustian deal without a second thought.

Pearl wriggled, trying to escape from Kayleth's embrace to no avail. She was still angry over him leaving her for a few months, and tried to limit contact to punish him. It hurt worse than the crucifixion and the eye combined. As expected of an extroverted feeler, she had very good intuitions in human relationships. She knew he needed her significantly more than she needed him. She probably knew she could rely on him to side with her against anyone else, without exception.

Fortunately, she was also a very spoiled child and would not last Kayleth's efforts at bribery for another week. Pearl was very satisfied in her father's choice in people for her to play with. Whatever she pointed at, she got. The King had even allowed her to sit on the throne, though it was very uncomfortable and in her opinion a seat that had best be burnt as soon as possible to make room for a new throne.

Murdock entered the garden, bedecked in full plate armor. "Your Highness, my Lord, and, erm..." Murdock puzzled over the etiquette of addressing the girl in Kayleth's arms for a moment. He had not seen her before, for he had many duties to attend to as a Wyvern General, but he knew it had to be his patron's youngest daughter. He knew Kayleth's eldest sibling, Sofiya, and the child looked exactly like her, down to the white hair and gray eyes but with baby fat and no creases.

Kayleth also looked at her in such a way that Murdock did not believe possible. His friend and patron had a streak of paranoia that ran as deep as the underground of Winterfell did, and it showed. It showed less when he was looking at Lyn or Alice, but the guard was still there. In regards to the child, Kayleth had no defenses. The gates were unbarred and the walls were unguarded. Kayleth's greatest strength and also his greatest weakness. Surely the first target of his enemies, if any of them found out that Kayleth had rather limited personal ambitions.

"Murdock, this is my youngest daughter, Lady Pearl of the House of Winterfell. Pearl, this is Wyvern General Murdock, a good if a little simple and dull friend of mine."

That was new to Pearl. Her father had no friends: only family, servants, employees, business partners, allies, and some other variations of servants. It was confusing, almost as confusing as the fact that her father had no friends. She had a veritable horde of friends and playmates.

"Hello, I'm Pearl! Nice to meet you!" Pearl said with as good a cheer as she usually had.

"Milady," Murdock knelt, causing much clunking in his armor. "I am Murdock."

"A faithful servant of yours, who'll happily defend you with his life. You can order him to do just about anything. Would you like to see some gymnastics? He's a peasant, so he can probably tell you where the prettiest flowers are" Kayleth added, causing the considerably more polite and politically correct Princess Guinevere much discomfort. He observed the effects he had on her. It was just the right kind of fear and respect for his authority that he liked to cultivate in most people. Murdock had heard worse from him, of course, and shrugged it off easily enough. It wasn't far from the truth anyways.

Pearl was puzzled, because this man sounded more like a servant than a friend.

No better match for his sister, Kayleth was convinced. Murdock would be an exemplary addition to the bloodline. It was too bad neither seemed particularly interested in each other. He had learned enough biology and statistics to know to trust the human instincts of selecting the best match in the first ten seconds of meeting them. As reasoning and logical as he was, even he had fallen to them, and the results were considerably better than he had reasoned if Pearl was anything to measure by.

"There you are!" Lyn walked briskly into the garden, dressed in her traditional Sacaen garb. Kayleth knew it would rub many conservatives the wrong way, especially the hostages he had taken at the Conclave, and was savoring every moment of it. Besides, his wife had stately, almost unfair, legs. He wanted to show her off. Lyn laughed uncontrollably the last night when he had told her as much, causing Pearl to look at her mother with some mixture of amusement and worry. "Come on! I thought punctuality was your specialty! We're going to be late!"

"I thought understanding the need for pretentious ceremony and rituals was my thing, too," Kayleth gasped in mock horror. "How dare you encroach on my territory!"

Lyn rolled her eyes as she liberated Pearl. "The faster we get this over with, the earlier we'll be home."

"Where's Madelyn?" Kayleth said as he rose and started walking. He beckoned impatiently for the Princess and Murdock to follow suit. The Princess's coterie of maids followed. The three squads of Praetorians attached to Kayleth and the Princess followed.

"Nino and Dame Athielle are watching over her."

"And Alice?"

"Reserving our seat. With great difficulty, I might add."

Lyn did not need to add. Kayleth was one of the better logicians of the realm. He could already draw in his mind the swarm of people trying to get close to her and take advantage of her. Even Heath, Heath the honorable that Kayleth could count on to be ethical at all times, was complaining to him the other day that he had not given him permission to terminate threats to her mind and soul yet. The transition period was still delicate, though, so Kayleth told him that he'll have to be satisfied with physical threats. For the moment.

Kayleth pitied Alice's troubles, for the ones who went to her were fools. The politically savvy ones approached him, knowing him to be de facto Duke in his status as Regent. Favors were doled out judiciously based on political or material needs. Seventh Heaven was branching out, the better to exert his power all over Elibe. All of its branches would be administered by trustworthy servants, of course.

"My Lord," Sebastian bowed in his immaculate butler uniform as he kept pace a little ahead of him. Kayleth remembered enough of his life in Bern to know why. He had trained all his life for it. A servant had to be in front of a great Lord for fear of unwelcome courtiers, irrelevant would-be hangers-on, and other such unsavory elements of society. Some nobles had the blessing of personality to enjoy the presence of such men and women to the good of their own realm. Kayleth despised it with his soul. They tended to be so predictable and ultimately boring. They sometimes had their uses, though, as he had learned from the war against Nergal. His lieutenants were usually people who had the patience and social skills required to handle such undesirables.

Speaking of lieutenants, his personal Legion, Legio XVI, was waiting for him at the rear entrance of the palace. Some were mercenaries, some were Knights and nobles, some were vagabonds and outcasts, some were unabashed barbarians, some were mercenaries, and some were men and women with a cause. Such a ragtag group at first glance, but a deadly enough fighting machine that toppled a Hamorian Duke and a Bernese King. They would have their just reward, other than the pleasure of having changed the course of history whether for money, duty, spite, or ideals.

They fell in at his sides and his back, marching inexorably towards the Pantheon, a marvel of architectural and aesthetic brilliance once dedicated to the dragons' gods who were cast down and replaced by Elimine's one God: the embodiment of one of the greatest traits of humanity, that of assimilation, and the symbol of its manifest destiny as rulers of this world.

And if, as Kayleth believed, there were other worlds out there in the stars such as the dragons' home world, rulers of the galaxy or extinct trying.

Kayleth and his group reached the rear entrance of the temple. He smirked as he remembered a tawdry joke about priests and their habit of blessing the rear of small children. What men did in their leisure time, Kayleth would be the last person in Elibe to care. When it involved authority figures and dependents, Kayleth was deeply invested in the torture and eventual deaths of said authority figures as well as chastisement and embarrassment of the Church of Elimine as a whole. Kayleth understood the need for organized religion as a crutch for the uneducated masses. It had proved itself in the Scouring and would do so again if humanity ever faced a similar peril. Religion was useful for war. One could justify just about anything with it, including some of his favorite methods of execution.

The Praetorians guarding the entrance duly moved out of his way, and Kayleth saw the military hierarchy of the revolution waiting.

"Generals Brenya and Vaida, my Lady aunt," Kayleth greeted while beckoning them to follow. He filtered out the banal greetings and small-talk as he was wont to do. The only people whose small-talk Kayleth would pay any voluntary attention to was his family. Lyn and Alice knew well enough by now that trivial social interactions bored and drained him, though he tried to listen when they decided to do it anyways. His eldest daughter considered it a waste of time, as he did. His youngest was adorable enough that she could make him do anything.

The buzz of chatter seemed all the more trivial in light of the triumph that was to be celebrated that day. Granted, Prince Zephiel was to become King that day, but Kayleth cared little enough about that. This day was more the affirmation of his unparalleled competence in making war. Kayleth's profession was war. His god was a god of war. It was the results of this day that made all his sacrifices worth it. It was this day that celebrated the sacrifices, voluntary or not, of all the people Kayleth had sent to their deaths. He was victorious, and thus worthy. In this alone Wyvern General Vaida and he shared a commonality.

Kayleth thought it ironic that the man with the least to do with organized religion knew the layout of the temple best as he led his group to the great hall of the Pantheon. He almost died of impatience on the numerous occasions he was forced to attend services here. His troops fell into their assigned spots, determined by their status. Veterans and Knights formed the majority of the crowd milling about behind the ceremonial throne, which was placed at the top of the stairs leading up to the front entrance of the Pantheon. Nobles and generals formed up at the top of the stairs, though Kayleth could see that only half had arrived.

"Daddy!" Madelyn, clad in a white dress for the occasion, cried as he stepped out into the rising sun. A good omen, if Kayleth were a superstitious peasant. Symbolically useful, the pragmatist in Kayleth said. The Kings of Bern were crowned in the rising sun. By his estimates, it would be a few minutes before the sunlight reached the throne.

The tactician beamed as he kissed his eldest daughter's forehead, telling all the courtiers, Knights, and commoners in the vicinity just who the half-breed they were gossiping about was. He chuckled at the indignation he spied on the more conservative of nobles at seeing that the rumors were true and that the regent of Hamor was married to a Sacaen. It made him inordinately happy to bite his figurative thumb at them, so he kissed Madelyn on both of her cheeks, too.

Before the war against Nergal, and after most of his siblings' deaths, a great deal of Kayleth's happiness was generated from healthy helpings of rage and spite. It reminded him of the time the Church began another one of their campaigns to root out sodomy and Kayleth, thirteen years old, kissed Murdock in the mouth in front of the demonstrators just to spite them. Oh, how his father had flogged him for public display of values unbecoming of an heir, and how after the flogging they laughed for a good half an hour at the expense of the Church.

To this day, Murdock claimed it was rape. Such a stickler for rules and details, Kayleth sighed. Although it was true that Murdock's sexual orientation was in doubt at the Academy for a few years afterwards. That was poor consideration on Kayleth's part. Those who feared for their lives dared not implicate anything about his sexuality.

There was a point to that defiance other than sheer spite, of course. The worst enemies were the enemies who killed you so slowly you didn't realize that you were dying. What other freedoms would the Church target after they intruded on sexual inclinations?

Kayleth's deceased family members now stood by his side. They laughed at his joke about the inquisition's term 'double heresy' and the 'double irony' of his seeing them here at the moment of his great triumph. Lyn realized that he was hallucinating, and smiled to herself. For some reason she thought it was good for him, a typical thought process of her psychological archetype. Kayleth only talked about his family on the rarest of occasions and never for long, and the hallucinations served as an internal mechanism for healing.

The tactician wasn't sure he could ever be healed, nor whether he wanted to be healed. The bitterness, indignation, obsession, rage, and spite the topic generated was good for his efficiency where it mattered. Kayleth was terrible at lying to himself, except when he was lying to himself to manipulate others.

He put Madelyn back on the ground to greet Nino and Athielle.

The crowd started gossiping with greater frenzy as Alice appeared. Kayleth's deceased family looked upon her with the greatest of pride, a product of Kayleth's educational schemes who survived the ring that she bore and would continue the tradition of strength and duty in the Duchy.

Alice had been preparing for the event for many hours before she opted to simply wear her armor instead. Her golden hair was longer than it had been at the start of the war, and she now took to wearing a simple ponytail with a black ribbon. The peach dress she usually wore underneath her armor was replaced with a white one, and her silver armor glowed in the warm light of the rising sun. The amethyst blade of their House, Runefang, was belted to her left without sheath. The people of Bern had to be reminded that, though the former Duke of Hamor lost, he lost to his own. She was suitably regal and warlike in appearance to rectify that.

As one, all Hamorians in the vicinity knelt in the presence of their liege before Alice, confused at first, realized what was happening and gestured at them to rise. The younger of the Hamorian soldiers and nobles scuffled lightly while raucously declaring their love for her, causing the soldiers and nobles of other realms to look at their mildly insane and famously belligerent bretheren with some alarm. Alice was taken aback by the outburst and responded in the manner that they had become accustomed to: a great deal of demure blushing and fidgeting. Kayleth allowed it. Freedom of speech was a sacred right that all Hamorian citizens earned and his sister's reaction set such a contrast to his father that it'd be good for the image of the House.

Having no other entertainment, the younger Hamorians started inquiring into Alice's love life. They noted Kayleth's presence and made sure not to cross or toe lines, but it was amusing. The youth of the other realms' soldiers and nobles didn't know whether to join or keep themselves from laughing. Kayleth shrugged at Alice's frantic gestures for help.

The humanization of the greatest Lords and Ladies was an important tool in capturing the souls of their underlings. The Hamorians became even louder in voicing their adulation as Jaffar slipped Pearl into Alice's arms, recognizing the resemblance. They went wild when Pearl kissed her unguarded aunt, and then blew them a kiss, as Kayleth had instructed and bribed her to. One golden rule of propaganda was that everyone loved children, especially the criminally cute ones. It helped that Pearl enjoyed adulation. Maybe a little too much, Kayleth considered, but that was to be expected of her predicted psychological archetype.

Someone in the crowd of soldiers suggested romantic relationships between Murdock and Alice. The scandal! Half the unmarried groaned in disappointment while the other half started chanting "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Kayleth snorted in amusement as he watched the eyes of the more conservative nobles of the Inner Duchies bulge in apoplexy at the questionable social status of the Wyvern General. He would rectify that problem soon enough. Alice panicked even more and started making wild gestures in the negative, but that only caused the disappointed side to take up the chant, too.

Just as planned, Kayleth smirked. He had paid a mercenary a paltry sum of thirty gold to spread rumors before the coronation. Only Murdock's gallant and stern defense of his liege caused the chant to stop.

As one of the rulers of the twenty two Duchies, Alice took her place right next to the throne, well, eleven people to the right away from the throne based on seniority in the first row.

Duchess Viviane shed tears at the genetic legacy apparent in her gloriously beautiful daughter. The same hair and eyes, but of more statuesque and warlike build, one of the warrior goddesses humanity had worshiped in its childhood. Kayleth restrained himself from an emotional outburst, reveling vicariously through the hallucinations of his family members.

They would fall in love with Alice. They would learn to fear her insane and paranoid brother. Their segments in the day's ceremonies catered perfectly to their respective demographics; it cemented the support Alice had among the youth and demonstrated the control Kayleth had for the benefit of the middle aged and the elderly. Their fellow Hamorians despised weakness and conformity, and none would be shown today. The script was already written, whether anyone else knew it or not.

Lyn presented to Kayleth two circlets meant for the nobility. Kayleth had calculated the effect this would have on the conservatives, of course. The public bestowing of noble titles to those whom they consider nobodies sent a powerful message about how incompetents could be replaced. Replacement by blood if necessary.

Nino and Murdock stepped forward, turned their backs to the crowds below, and knelt before Alice. Alice smiled a genuine and in Kayleth's opinion divinely radiant smile as she faced her greatest commoner retainers. Kayelth bowed to Nino, an unprecedented event which almost caused her to weep with pride. He then rolled his eyes at Murdock, drawing a rippling wave of laughter from the commoners milling out below who saw it. Murdock simply raised an inured eyebrow at his antics.

Of the commoners that served him, none had served more faithfully than Nino had despite her having so little obligation to do so. It was all the better that his expectations of her had been so low. Kayleth's suspicion that Nino's mother was related to his own mother was confirmed when Canas and he, some seven years ago, investigated the remains of the house Nino had been born in. It was further revealed that Nino was his cousin on the maternal side. She took the news in stride when he revealed the truth to her during his mother's death, and continued to serve loyally. She was also the best spellcaster of the realm. Not even the Mage General could match her in combat magic. Such devotion and talent could not go unrewarded.

Murdock was one of the earliest of Kayleth's clique. The lowborn soldier exceeded his expectations and became a Wyvern General of Bern. He had performed his duties with distinction and trusted in his judgment. Such excellence and faith could not go unrewarded. Now, if only he could get him to see Alice as a viable mate rather than a surrogate sister, Kayleth could ask no more of Murdock. That was one of the reasons Kayleth regretted having let him kill Sofiya, for Murdock had such an antiquated sense of decorum and honor for a lowly lumberjack that he felt guilty for killing her when Kayleth was his patron and Alice was his liege. Hopefully, time will let Kayleth stomp out that guilt with a warhammer and Hamor's future would be even more secure. An heir would be a good start.

No words were necessary. They knew the esteem and trust Kayleth, as far as such notions could go for him, had in them. Kayleth taking one side and Alice the other, the two golden circlets were placed on Nino and Murdock's heads. The commoners cheered as they lapped up their second favorite story format: how the low rise, second only to how the mighty fall. Admittedly they already had a healthy dose of the latter with the death of the King.

"Baroness, Viscount, please rise," Alice said.

Not three minutes passed before the arrival of Prince Zephiel, and the crowd roared their approval and adulation. The Prince arrived by wyvern, and upon landing strode with powerful steps to the throne. All save little children knelt, and the Prince gestured at them to rise. The Princess Guinevere joined him, sitting on a smaller throne to his left.

Alice encouraged her shy niece to the throne. Madelyn bore in her hands the Fire Emblem: such a tiny piece of jewelry and yet imbued with such significance. In case anyone hadn't noticed, Kayleth had designed the day to humiliate the nobles of the Inner Duchies as much as he could without inciting war, and Madelyn's carrying the Fire Emblem was part of it. Some of them seemed to go into shock that a half-Sacaen could touch the holy seal of the Bernese kingdom.

Zephiel took the Fire Emblem, and raised it for the world to witness.

Solemnly, with dignity to befit the occasion, the Archbishop of the Bernese kingdom approached the throne.

As the priest made his way up the stairs, something about the occasion annoyed Kayleth. He couldn't quite put a finger on what it was. The crown was immaculate, having been scrubbed of the King's blood and polished for days before Kayleth announced it satisfactory. Everyone involved was following the script to the letter. Kayleth was the type to appreciate good and unquestioning followers.

Kayleth arrived at what was bugging him about the ceremony. The wrong person was crowning Zephiel. The Archbishop lived in style thanks to the tithe that was expected of every government in which the Church of Elimine was mandatory. He knew nothing of the realities of Elibe, and certainly nothing about the recent civil war except that he got to crown a King.

The crowd murmured in confusion as Kayleth stopped the priest seven steps from the throne. He picked up the crown.

It was a gaudy piece of ornamentation that served absolutely no purpose whatsoever other than being the ceremonial hat in state functions for the King. Kayleth briefly considered the wisdom in taking out a few of the stones.

Kayleth walked towards the throne, and beckoned at Alice, Vaida, and Sigismund to come.

Vaida seemed rather pleased, though Alice and Sigismund were making faces at him, roughly translating into 'what the hell?'

God existed.

To be more precise, God existed at the sufferance of humans. The oldest religions claimed that God made humans in their own image, but humans knew now the truth, that we made Him in ours.

It would be, therefore, humans that crowned the King. Not a supposed representative of God, a figment of human imagination.

Vaida knew she represented the military. Alice didn't know it, but she represented the nobility. Sigismund was just realizing it, but he represented the intelligentsia.

Kayleth represented the wolves. Monsters ranging from dragons to psychopaths could not prey on humanity for a good reason. There always existed wolves among the bleating sheep of human masses, and those wolves were more monstrous and fearsome than the monsters.

Nothing was beyond human imagination, as the dragons learnt during the Scouring. If the pre-Scouring records were true, so did the various races of monsters who inhabited Elibe prior to the alliance of dragons and humans.

It made sense. Dragons were dragons to humans. Humans were humans to dragons. The former viewed the latter as a negligible threat but numerous enough to serve as meat shields. The latter viewed the former as dragons: powerful allies but with weak reproductive impulses that would limit their population in the long run, giving humanity more resources to work with.

The dragons gave humanity too much time to recover in terms of population, and that was their doom, for the monsters taught some humans the value of having human monsters.

The rays of Elibe's sun finally descended on Zephiel's head, and the four lowered the crown.

"Long live the King," Kayleth murmured, kneeling.

"Long live the King!" the Pantheon trembled as the masses declared their loyalty to their new monarch.

* * *

It was mostly written, anyways.

Will spend a couple of months to make omakes for Debt of Honor and Oedipus Rex. Probably alternating between just for lulz and history.

I actually did have one for this chapter and some more to the afterword, but this God damned website! What the FU(K is wrong with this site?! I press save and it tells me to login. RAGE! I login and hurry back to the document. Not saved. RAGE!

The first chapter for the new story, To Right a Wrong, has been written. Considering how FE6 is a much greater conflict, though, I feel the need to flesh out the various cultures and civilizations that exist in Elibe first. Its main characters are Kayleth, Alice, Pearl, and Roy. The cast of FE7 will not be returning.

Kayleth's numerous middle fingers at the more conservative and the traditional will come back to bite him in the ass in the sequel. That is one of the most common and greatest failings of his archetype: arrogance and the boredom that compels them to make enemies.

Was Kayleth's torture cruel? Hardly. Crucifixion is really the go to for mass-torture. There's little personal attention involved in it, and the pain is paltry compared to some of the better tortures back in the days. One of my favorites involves tying the victim to an iron pot, putting hot coal in it just enough to meld the skin to the pot but not kill him, and then bringing in just one starving rat and leaving him in the room. Very creative, the Spanish inquisitors were. On a similar note, there was the skinning of the feet and making the victim walk a paved way of heated stones. I think that was Babylonian.


End file.
